Fake
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: That was the thing about Chuck. He was so bad at maintaining a cover, and so good at being… real.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: T

Spoilers: Goes AU after Chuck vs. the Ex.

A/N: Going through a bunch of old stories that I wrote years ago and found this one in the pile. This was such a great show. Also, I heart Zachary Levi. My love for him is still strong. :)

xxx

She kissed him. Her eyes were closed, but she could tell his eyebrows were climbing upwards in surprise. He hesitated, then kissed her back, his mouth warm against hers. Against her will, her breath caught in her throat. That was the thing about Chuck. Even though she'd only done it a handful of times in the entirety of their fake relationship, kissing him always surprised her. Tall, dark, and caring, indeed. The passion was the wild card.

She let it continue just a fraction of a second longer than she normally would have deemed prudent. Really, it was questionable whether it was prudent to have done it at all. A simple kiss hello in the interest of keeping up their cover was one thing, but when she couldn't even exercise the self-discipline to keep things professional… to keep a fake kiss, well, fake… maybe she shouldn't have started this in the first place.

She broke the kiss, and looked into his face. He had a goofy, happy looking smile on his face, and she was torn between wanting to hit him for being so frustratingly adorable, and wanting to reach up and caress his face, and laugh up into his eyes. She could feel her cheeks begin to flush lightly, and she quickly schooled her expression into a mask of detachment to cover it. "We have a mission," she said brusquely, and saw his face fall, the blatant disappointment in his eyes.

She walked through the Buy More to the home theater room, wanting to kick herself as she felt him following behind her, his very footfalls sounding dejected. He had specifically told her he couldn't handle the intimacy of the cover because he couldn't tell what was real and what was fake; it was all real to him. He was too emotionally invested. And here she was, blurring the lines again, telling herself it was for the job, completely disregarding his feelings. She felt like a jerk. Chuck had never been anything but honest with her, and always respected her wishes, when it was obvious he wanted more. He was such a good guy. He didn't deserve to be treated as inconsiderately as she'd just treated him.

She exhaled furiously as she entered the home theater room, where Casey was already waiting for them. She told herself her behavior had nothing to do with the phone call she'd overheard between Chuck and Jill a few days before, that it certainly wasn't some twisted attempt to mark her territory, to purposefully confuse Chuck about his feelings now that he finally had a chance at something real with someone else. Surely she was better than that. A better agent than to use an asset for less than professional purposes. A better friend than to willfully hurt someone she genuinely cared about.

No, she told herself firmly, she was just protecting the cover. After all, Chuck was a hopelessly bad liar. Now that he was involved with someone else, he was liable to compromise their cover by behaving like a lovesick fool about Jill, so it was up to her to make sure their cover stayed believable.

"Bout time you got here," Casey grunted at them, breaking her reverie. "We've got a situation."

"Let me guess, Fulcrum agents are plotting to infiltrate a high society event in order to covertly sell launch missile codes to our country's enemies, and it's up to us to stop them," Chuck said dryly.

Casey glanced at him. "Well, I don't know about high society, but the rest of it is about right. Did you flash on something already?"

Chuck's eyebrows climbed again. "What? No! I was joking. Seriously, the launch code thing was right?"

"Some of us don't joke about missile codes," Casey said, unamused.

Chuck swallowed. "Right, when it's a real thing, joking about the potential destruction of the known world is probably in poor taste." At a look at Casey's stony face, Chuck straightened up. "Okay, shutting up now."

"Where is it happening?" Sarah asked.

"Downtown. A restaurant called 'Chez Pierre.' You and Bartowski are going undercover as a couple celebrating their anniversary." He sighed. "I will, yet again, be going as a waiter. Bartowski, be ready at seven o clock."

"Wait, this is happening tonight?" Chuck exclaimed. "I can't go tonight, I have a date with Jill."

Sarah winced, wondering how to break the news to him gently, but Casey answered before she had a chance.

"Oh, really? Well, in that case, we'll just call Fulcrum and ask them to reschedule their plot to overthrow the United States government for a time that's more convenient for you," Casey said. Not gently.

Chuck waited a beat. "You're being sarcastic right now, aren't you?"

Sarah sighed. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I know you're disappointed, but Jill knows about your role as an agent. You'll have to tell her you'll go on your date another time. She'll understand."

His eyes came to rest on her. "Yeah, telling a girl you have to cancel a date to go out with a beautiful woman who isn't her, who wouldn't be understanding about that?"

"She knows you have a cover girlfriend, doesn't she?"

Chuck nodded reluctantly.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Then what's the problem?"

To her surprise, instead of answering her, Chuck exchanged glances with Casey, who shook his head to indicate he didn't want to get in the middle of this. Chuck sighed. "Never mind."

"Good," Sarah said, not certain what had just happened. "I'll expect you at seven, then."

"Fine." Chuck left the home theater room without a backward glance.

She shot Casey a questioning glance, but he just said, "Well, I've got Grill Masters to sell," and left.

She followed him out of the room, and headed toward the Nerd Herd counter, concerned about Chuck.

She saw him talking to a woman with long dark hair, and her eyes narrowed. Chuck was talking extraordinarily fast, the way he always did when he was nervous, and even though she couldn't see her face, Sarah could guess that this was Jill.

Quelling a pang of… well, some kind of pang that probably didn't need to be named, Sarah approached. She still felt bad about what she'd done earlier, and Chuck was clearly making a hash of things on his own. The least she could do was try to smooth things over for him with his new…old… well, with his girlfriend. Plus, she could see the other members of the Nerd Herd glancing at the woman at Chuck's side with blatant curiosity, clearly wondering about the role of this new woman in Chuck's life, so obviously, her intervention was needed if their cover was going to stay intact.

She sidled up to Chuck's side, and Chuck jumped about a mile, ceasing his babbling and the anxiety in his eyes escalating to actual panic. Sarah ignored him. She smiled and held out her hand to Jill. "Hi, you must be Jill. I've heard so much about you."

Jill shook her hand, looking taken aback. "Oh? Only good things, I hope?"

"Of course," Sarah replied. Other than betraying him and sleeping with his best friend. But since she'd slept with Bryce, too, who was she to throw stones? Although, that had been before she met Chuck, and she'd never been involved in a real relationship with him. "Chuck thinks the world of you." That much was true, at least. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Sarah."

Jill's eyes widened behind her wire-frame glasses. " _You're_ Sarah?"

Sarah's smile faltered. "Yes. I understand Chuck already explained the situation to you?"

"You're his girlfriend," Jill said flatly.

Sarah glanced at the Nerd Herd, who were out and out staring now, but were still just outside of earshot. "That is our cover, yes," she said lightly. Beside her, Chuck made a strangled noise. Again, she ignored him, and tried to project a reassuring air to Jill. "I hope you're not upset with Chuck about having to cancel this evening. Believe me, he was very reluctant to do so, but he's a very honorable guy, and he would never ignore the call of duty when lives are at stake, whatever that may cost him personally."

Jill looked slightly mollified. "That's true."

Sarah smiled at her. "Great. I knew you would understand. Hopefully tomorrow there will be no rogue agents threatening the safety of the country, and you two can go out then."

Chuck made another strangled noise. She looked up at him, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Chuck, his voice cracking.

"All right," she said. "Well, I have a mission to plan, so I'd better get back to work." Glancing at the Nerd Herd audience again, she stood on tiptoe and gave Chuck a very brief, professional kiss on the cheek. "See you later."

As she was leaving, she heard Jill say, " _That_ was your cover girlfriend?"

"Uh-huh," Chuck said eloquently.

"Somehow, when you told me you had a cover girlfriend, I imagined someone a little… shorter," Jill said dryly. Sarah faltered, but resolutely kept walking, determined not to be distracted. _Shorter_?


	2. Chapter 2

That evening, Chuck slouched in his seat, pushing his squash-filled ravioli around his plate morosely.

Sarah watched him, taking a bite of her fettuccini and wondering what was wrong with him. "Any flashes yet?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said, without looking up.

"Are you expecting to flash on something on your plate?" she asked. "Because if not, maybe actually looking at the other people in the restaurant would be a good alternative to that strategy."

He sighed heavily, and made an exaggerated point to look around the restaurant and study the faces of the people around him. She thought about reminding him that spies usually tried to employ some level of stealth in their work, but held her tongue. He turned back to her. "Nothing, okay?" he said, and looked back down at his plate.

She suppressed a sigh. There were some days when she thought Chuck was the worst person in the world for a career in spying. He always let his emotions get in the way of the job at hand. "What is the matter with you? You're supposed to be celebrating your anniversary with someone you're madly in love with, not looking like you're here under pain of torture. Can't you try to sell it a little?"

He looked up, eyes flashing. "Someone I'm…" he repeated, looking furious. "What do you want me to do, molest you on top of the table?"

She swallowed, remembering too late that provoking Chuck when he was in a mood like this never ended well for her. Specifically, it led to her doing things like yelling at him, threatening to shoot him so he wouldn't get blown up, and then kissing him within an inch of his life. Or… you know, him kissing her within an inch of her life. "I'm merely suggesting," she said coolly, "that you make a greater effort to protect our cover by behaving like you're more interested in your date than the pattern of the china."

The heat left his eyes, and he slumped down in his seat again. He closed his eyes. "Fine."

She waited a moment, but he didn't open his eyes. "Chuck?" she said, worried. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed him. "Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes and sat up, looking back at her with an expression she couldn't read. "I'm fine."

"Really?" she said, the worry she felt evident in her voice. "You seem… distracted."

He sighed. "I'm fine. I just… I'm no good at this deception stuff."

She hid a smile. There was no point in telling him that was one of the things she liked best about him. "You don't like misleading people. That's generally considered a good quality. But you usually seem fine doing undercover work for a mission."

He fidgeted. "I know. It's just that with Jill… it feels wrong, being with someone else. Even when it's fake."

The urge to smile vanished. She played with her napkin and tried to think of something comforting to say. "You're a good guy, Chuck."

He gestured dismissively, as though saying he was a good guy wasn't saying much. He was, though. A good guy, a good man. The best she knew, really. One who had never been trained to protect himself, but who nonetheless flung himself in the path of danger to protect others. She thought that was saying a lot. She said none of this aloud, however.

"Did you work things out with her this morning?" she said finally.

He brought his gaze back to meet hers. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, she wasn't thrilled when she saw you, but she was okay about it, in the end."

"But hadn't you already told her that you had a cover girlfriend?" Sarah said. "Why would she be upset just from meeting me?"

"I think she was expecting someone who fit better into _my_ cover. You know, someone who looked like they belonged with the Nerd Herd."

"But I don't have the technical skills to make working with computers a believable cover," she said, puzzled.

"That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean, then?"

He sighed. "I mean, she was expecting someone who looked nerdy and not that attractive, not someone who looked like… you."

"You think she was jealous because of the way I look? That doesn't make any sense. Jill is a beautiful woman," she said, a stabbing feeling in her gut as she thought about the way Chuck had looked at the brunette. "There's no reason for her to be threatened by me on that account. You must be mistaken."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Sarah, trust me when I say the most beautiful woman in the world would feel a little insecure if she was standing next to you."

She looked up at him, startled, and Chuck's eyes were soft upon hers. "Or, I guess I should say the second most beautiful woman in the world," he said quietly.

Her breath caught in her throat. See, this is why working with him was so dangerous. Every time she thought she knew everything there was to know about Chuck Bartowski, he did something completely unexpected. He seemed harmless on the surface, and then he'd say something like that and just knock her flat.

She didn't know what to say. "Chuck…"

Misreading her expression, his soft smile faded and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Right, probably not the most appropriate thing to say to a fake girlfriend when the real girlfriend is mad about the fake girlfriend. Wow, I really am bad at this, aren't I?"

She didn't think it wise to contradict him, though she disagreed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have butted in this morning, if it just caused you more trouble."

"It's okay. I know you were just trying to help. And it's not a big deal, Jill and I are going to go out tomorrow night, instead."

Sarah forced a smile. "That's great." Impulsively, she added, "I'm glad you found each other, Chuck. You're obviously crazy about her, and… you deserve something real with someone."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah."

"So things are going well with her, other than today?"

"Yeah. It's nice, not having to lie all the time. And being with her… it's so simple, you know?"

"I'm happy for you." Unable to hold his gaze, she looked down at her plate again and toyed with her fettuccini.

They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Chuck cleared his throat unexpectedly. "Ah, speaking of lending credibility to the cover… I got you something."

"What?" Sarah said, startled. She was still thinking about Jill, and had no idea what he was talking about.

"I wouldn't have pegged Casey for a romantic, but there he was this morning, reminding me of our anniversary."

"Our anniversary?" she said blankly.

"Actually, it's next week, and I'm pretty sure Casey wasn't thinking about our real anniversary when he thought of our cover tonight, but I thought since it's coming up…"

"What are you talking about?"

He flushed. "It's stupid, I guess, but I realized that next week is the one year anniversary of our first date." He paused. "Well, of our first fake date. A celebration of the anniversary of our first real date would not only be premature, but probably ill-advised, since it was immediately followed by us not being together."

She stared at him. He chuckled nervously. "Ahaha… seriously, why is it that you've never stabbed me through the tongue with a fork before, and specifically right now?"

"Chuck, I don't know how to say this, but… I've never had the slightest inclination to stab you through the tongue with a fork."

He blinked. "Oh. Well, good, then, I guess."

"You were saying… about the anniversary?" she prompted.

"Oh, that. Well, Casey said we were posing as a couple celebrating our anniversary, and since as a fake couple, we would be celebrating our real anniversary next week, I thought… two birds… one stone…"

"And you got me a gift?"

"Well… yeah."

"Why?"

He fidgeted again. "Because… if we were really together, I would have gotten you something."

She blinked. "Oh. Well, good thinking."

"Really? That was good thinking?"

"Yes. I'm glad to hear you're putting forth some real effort to make our cover believable, for once."

"Yeah, I'm—wait, what do you mean, for once? Are you implying that I don't make the cover believable as a rule?"

"Well, anytime I try to touch you, you practically jump out of your skin. And Ellie and Awesome, I'm pretty sure, are under the impression that we've never kissed, because you don't ever try to kiss me when we're all together, even hello or good-bye, which are perfectly normal times for a boyfriend to kiss his girlfriend."

"It's just that it's awfully personal—wait, is that what this morning was about?" he said suspiciously, comprehension dawning.

"Supposedly, we've been together for a year. That's more than enough time for you to have gotten over your shyness about public displays of affection."

He raised his eyebrows. "So, you're saying, you want me to kiss you…more?"

"When it's appropriate for our cover, yes. Now, can I have my gift, please?"

"What? Oh, sure, of course," he said, reaching into his inside jacket pocket and pulling out a long, flat box. "This is for you."

She smiled at him. "Why, thank you, honey, you shouldn't have."

"I wanted to," he said seriously. "Go ahead, open it."

She obliged, lifting the lid to reveal a silver chain with a pendant in the shape of a simple but elegant silver heart. "Chuck," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

"You really like it?" he said, sounding pleased.

"It's perfect."

"I'm glad. I was nervous, you know? I wasn't sure if it was something you'd like, but I just thought of you when I saw it, so I went ahead and got it anyway."

Sarah felt tears prick her eyes, and blinked rapidly so he wouldn't see them. "Chuck… that's so sweet."

"Sweet…" he repeated, looking a little disappointed. "I guess I'm just a sweet guy."

She reached forward and covered his hand with her own. "You really are."

And then, somehow, his disappointment was gone and he smiled back at her.

She took the pendant from the box and held it out to him. "Help me put it on?"

His smile faded. "Really?"

"Really."

He practically leapt from his chair in his haste to assist her. He bent over her, brushing her hair out of the way, fumbling with the clasp, and inhaled sharply. "God, you smell good."

The feeling of his fingers brushing against her neck felt good, too, but she didn't comment on that. No one had ever given her jewelry before. Well, except for a man named Rashid al-Faquur, one time, but he was a diamond smuggler and she'd broken six of his bones after he'd given her a tennis bracelet. She'd then turned the bracelet and about 8 million dollars worth of precious stones over to the authorities, so surely that didn't count… Even Bryce had never given her anything like this, and he'd been her most serious relationship to date by all accounts, at least until she met Chuck. Who was so thoughtful, remembering their anniversary, and going out of his way to do something nice for her even when she did nothing but keep him at arm's length.

With a shock, she realized she'd completely forgotten about her cover, and she frowned at herself for losing herself in the moment. She also realized in her little mental comparison just then she'd inadvertently measured her two year relationship with Bryce against her mostly-platonic-supposed-to-be-protective-and-professional relationship with Chuck. She cringed, realizing some part of her (the honest, not-scared-shitless-of-her-own-feelings part of her) considered the latter the more significant of the two.

This was exactly the kind of thing she was always lecturing Chuck about, keeping the cover separate from reality, and now here she was, failing miserably at that very task twice in one day. Belatedly, she realized how inappropriate it was for her to accept something like this from him. Sure, it was a good idea for the cover, but personally speaking, it was almost cruel of her to take it from him when she knew he was confused about his real feelings about her. It was on the tip of her tongue to walk it back, to suggest that the CIA could reimburse him for his gesture as a reminder that this was for the cover, and only the cover, but then he sat down again across from her, beaming, and she knew instinctively he'd be offended by the suggestion, and she bit her tongue. Let it go, she counseled herself. It's not worth hurting him over something so trivial. But her fingers found the necklace now nestled at her throat, and she knew it wasn't trivial at all, and that Chuck wasn't the only one confused about his feelings.

"Chuck… I—I didn't get you anything," she stammered.

"That's okay, I didn't expect you to."

And wasn't that typical. He was willing to give her everything, and didn't expect a thing back for himself. Sarah found herself blinking back tears again.

Chuck looked alarmed at her facial expression. "Hey, are you okay?"

She gave him a watery smile. "I'm fine," she said. "I was just thinking how lucky I am to know a guy like you."

He looked pleased. "Yeah? Listen, I—"

A loud pop sounded next to their ears, and Chuck jumped. They both looked up to see Casey, standing over them with a freshly opened bottle of champagne and a menacing expression. "As much as I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, do you think you could spend a little less time gazing into each other's eyes, and a little more time watching out for Fulcrum agents?"

"I already looked," Chuck snapped. He did not look happy to be interrupted. "I didn't flash on anyone."

"Look again," Casey growled. "Intel's description of one of the suspects matches the guy getting up from the bar."

Chuck sighed and looked around. There was a man with light brown hair and a leather jacket standing up at the bar and tossing down a couple of bills.

"Nothing, okay?" Chuck said irritably. "Now would you leave us the hell alo—"

His eyes focused on the crisp twenty dollar bill the man was laying on the bar. He flashed. Missile launchers. A cuckoo clock. A counterfeit machine. Piles of money in a dark room. A safe. A file with the address of an old bank.

Sarah went on the alert the minute she saw his eyes glaze over. "Chuck, what is it? What did you see? Who is he?"

"It's not him," Chuck gasped. "It's the money. Counterfeit. They're running a money laundering outfit out of an old run down bank downtown to hide the profits of a dealer selling stolen U.S. weapons technology on the black market."

"Why isn't Chuck flashing on the guy?" Casey demanded.

Sarah shook her head. "It must be a disguise that's thorough enough not to set off any cues for the Intersect." Sarah met Casey's eyes. "We've got to follow him, figure out who he is."

"I'll come after him from the back, you cut him off at the front. Try not to blow your cover. Who knows how many other of the people in this place have disguised themselves beyond the Intersect's recognition?"

Chuck looked around uneasily. "Real comforting thought, there, Casey."

"Go," Sarah told Casey. "We'll handle it from here."

Casey looked at Chuck. "Don't screw anything up," he said, and took the plate of Chuck's mostly untouched ravioli.

"Hey, I was going to eat that," Chuck protested.

Sarah leaned forward. "Chuck, focus."

His eyes found hers and he straightened. "Right."

She smiled at him invitingly, and he smiled uncertainly back. He cleared his throat. "So, the mission is…?"

Sarah reached out with her foot and ran it suggestively up Chuck's leg.

He yelped. "Jesus, Sarah, you're the one telling me to focus, and you're-"

"Pay the bill, Chuck."

"What? I—"

"My foot is on your leg, Chuck."

"I know, and that feels amazing, but do you think this is the best time for—"

"Chuck, your not entirely unattractive girlfriend is wearing a killer dress, she's running her foot up your leg on your anniversary, and is looking at you like she wants you. Think you might have some incentive to get out of here quickly?"

"But I—oh…" he hurriedly threw down a few twenties. "Okay, let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

She grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of the restaurant. A couple of guys near the door smirked at them, but she ignored them and pulled Chuck outside.

"To the left," Chuck gasped in her ear.

She swiveled her head to the left and saw the Fulcrum agent ambling up the street without any apparent idea that he was being followed.

She kept a tight hold on Chuck's hand and set off in pursuit of the agent.

They'd only taken a few steps when the man paused, and turned around.

"Crap," Sarah swore under her breath, and pasted a big, happy smile on her face. She turned, and pushed Chuck up against the wall.

"Sarah, what are you do—" Chuck said, startled, as he found himself pressed flat against the brick wall of the restaurant, with Sarah's body pressed against his.

"Shh," she crooned. She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Keep an eye on him," she whispered to him. "Tell me when he moves." She ran her finger along his jaw. Chuck stared at her. "What's he doing now?"

Chuck blinked, and stole a glance to his left. "Ah, some guy stopped next to him. They're talking."

"Good," she breathed. She touched her lips to his again. "Keep watching…"

He whimpered slightly, but obediently darted his eyes to the left. "That's great, Chuck. Just keep doing that." She placed her hand on his chest and leaned into him, kissing him for real now.

He tasted sweet, but subtle. His mouth was warm, and his lips were amazingly soft. She let her tongue snake past his lips and duel with his. God, he was a good kisser. You wouldn't expect a nerd to be such a good kisser. Had he read a book on it, or something? Did they teach it at Stanford? Chuck hadn't had a lot of girlfriends in the past, or she'd think he'd been refining his technique on a line of women before her. But there weren't a lot of other girls that had taught him everything he needed to know about how to kiss a woman so all rational thought left her head. Just Jill.

Jill. Sarah broke off the kiss abruptly and peered up at Chuck.

The idiot's eyes were closed.

"Chuck, you idiot, you're supposed to be watching the mark!" she hissed. "Open your eyes."

He opened his eyes slowly and blinked, dazed. "Wha-? Who?"

"The mark, you're supposed to be watching the mark!"

"Oh, yeah…" he looked over. "Uh, he's still talking to that guy."

"What is the matter with you? I asked you to do one simple thing, and you completely lost focus! I need you to concentrate."

"Well, excuse me, Miss-being-all-seductive-in-the-restaurant-and-then-throwing-me-up-against-the-nearest-wall, but we don't all have the iron-clad self-control that you do."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, you've obviously never kissed yourself, or you'd know that it's physically impossible to concentrate on anything else when Sarah Walker kisses you!"

Sarah said the first thing that came into her head. "Bryce never had a problem with it."

His eyes narrowed and she realized her mistake too late. Comparing him to Bryce had been a terribly hurtful thing to do. She knew how sensitive Chuck was about Bryce, and about her… and about her relationship with Bryce. Now she'd not only implied that Bryce was a better spy than him, but maybe even implied he was a better kisser than him, which couldn't be further than the truth…

"Wow," Chuck said slowly.

"Chuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" she trailed off. She eyed him nervously. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking… that I have never had a lower opinion of Bryce Larkin than I do at this moment."

Sarah started, and stared at him. There he went again, saying something nice to her when she'd expected him to be hurt, or mad, or anything but kind, and, well, flattering. This was again, one of the things that made her crazy. He was supposed to be the goofy, awkward geek—so why was it between the two of them, he was able to say something so… so sweet in a completely self-assured way, and she, who was supposed to be the sophisticated, never-loses-her-cool super spy… she was always the bumbling awkward one in their personal relationship? She felt a blush start to creep up on her cheeks, and said the first thing she could think of. "Fine. You kiss. I'll keep watch."

She grabbed his lapels and twisted them around so now her back was against the bricks, and he was pressed up against her.

She glanced over and saw the two gentlemen still standing on the corner, apparently engaged in a heated debate.

Chuck brought one hand up to her cheek hesitantly. His eyes flickered down to her mouth, then back up to hers.

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

His eyes narrowed again, and she remembered too late the thing about provoking him. You know, the losing control and being kissed within an inch of her life thing. He buried his hands in her hair and brought her face up to his for a mind-bending kiss. She made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, and succumbed to his assault on her mouth. That was the thing about Chuck. He was so bad at maintaining a cover, and so good at being… real. Her eyes slid closed against her will, and it was with a supreme effort that she managed to pry them open again and glance over at their mark.

She made a noise of frustration and pushed him away slightly.

"What? What is it?" He panted, slightly out of breath. "Did they move?"

"No, I can't see when you're doing that. You're too tall- your head gets in the way. Kiss my neck or something."

"Neck," Chuck repeated. "Okay, got it."

He leaned in again, dropping soft kisses onto her neck. She fought the urge to let her eyes roll back in her head and kept her eyes on the prize—that is, the mark. With Chuck's head out of the way, she could see clearly. "That's good, Chuck. Perfect."

"You like that?" Chuck asked into her neck. The sound of his voice so close vibrated against her skin. "I've got plenty more where that came from." And he started sucking on a place behind her ear.

"I didn't mean—" Oh, God, where had he learned to do that? She unconsciously tilted her head to give him better access, and she realized she was clutching Chuck's shirt in a death grip in an unintended effort to pull him even closer to her. She could barely see straight, and she was slightly concerned that she seemed to be making conspicuous gasping and sighing noises of contented pleasure. She twisted her head violently to the side, and saw the mark's heel disappearing around the corner. The other man was no longer in sight. She swore.

"I gotta say, I wouldn't have expected you to be the type to talk dirty, Sarah, but I've got to admit it's pretty hot," Chuck panted, his lips still working their magic on her neck.

"The mark," Sarah ground out, breaking away from Chuck with difficulty. He didn't seem inclined to let her go, and she had to admit she was reluctant to move away from his grip. "He's on the move. Come on, we've got to go." She grabbed his hand and dragged him up the sidewalk.

"You really know how to kill the mood," Chuck grumbled, tripping slightly as he struggled to keep up with her.

Sarah ignored him. She took a hard left where the mark had turned, and Chuck bumped against her, causing her to stumble. His hands settled on her waist to steady her, and she covered his hand with hers to keep him moving forward.

Something was wrong. She couldn't see the mark. He couldn't have been that far ahead of them. And where was Casey?

She stopped dead, and Chuck ran into her again. They stood like that for a second, his warm body flush against her back, and she realized what was going on. Slowly, she covered Chuck's arms with her own, keeping his arms wrapped firmly around her, and turned around, keeping her body in between him and whatever trouble they were about to face.

The mark was standing in front of them, just as she knew he would be, pointing a gun right at them.

He smiled slightly, and there was something familiar in his face. "Hello, Agent Walker."

She squinted at him. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

He laughed lightly. "Ah, of course, you don't recognize me. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery after our last meeting. Convenient, really, in the end, for creating a disguise which you wouldn't be able to recognize."

"I don't…"

"You smashed my nose in and shattered my jaw with those delicate fists of yours," he said flatly.

Light dawned. "Jameson."

"Ah, you aren't quite as fickle as you seem. You remember me after all."

"How's your knee?" she said coldly.

"It troubles me a bit when it rains," he said offhandedly. "But, then, it doesn't rain very often in L.A., so that's fortunate." His eyes met Chuck's. "She bashed in my kneecap with a lead pipe, in case you were wondering."

"Good for her," Chuck muttered.

Sarah interrupted, bringing Jameson's attention back to her. "What's unfortunate is that you're still able to walk. I didn't think you'd be able to, or I wouldn't have left you after our little… disagreement."

"Yes, but then, if you hadn't, you wouldn't have been able to stop that bus from blowing up in Cairo."

"Now that I think about it, it might have been an acceptable trade off to take the extra time to shoot you."

He actually laughed. "I don't think so. You've never been able to resist protecting the little people. Just like you're protecting this little person behind you. But you seem even more invested in his welfare than those little children on the bus. So I'm curious… who is this person you protecting now, and how did he become so important to you?"

Chuck's arms tightened around her waist. "He's nobody," Sarah told Jameson. "Just somebody I picked up tonight to blow off steam."

Chuck's grip slackened slightly, and she could picture the hurt in his eyes.

Jameson laughed again. "You know, you really are a terrible liar, for a spy. Try again."

Chuck lifted his head. "I'm Charles Carmichael. We work together."

"Is that what you're calling it these days? If that were true, I highly doubt Agent Walker here would have been so sloppy tonight as to let me maneuver you into this position in the first place."

"He's an analyst," Sarah said. "New to fieldwork."

"Really?" Jameson pointed the gun at Chuck. "Analyze something, then."

Chuck met him dead in the eye. "You're a rogue British agent that's recently joined up with Fulcrum. You're running a money laundering outfit to cover the profits of stolen weapons, which is a serious step down for you after the covert operations you were in charge of in Cairo and Belarus, but definitely a step up after the assignment they gave you in Colombia after you screwed up the mission in Cairo and Agent Walker kicked your ass. She used a copper pipe, by the way, not a lead one, and it cost you $40,000 dollars for the knee replacement surgery, plus another $65,000 for the facial reconstruction. Incidentally, I think she did you a favor there, because you were really much less attractive before she quite rightly smashed your face in."

"Okay, I've heard enough," Jameson interrupted. "Guess I've found myself another agent after all." He took a set of keys out of his pocket.

"What's that for…?" Chuck trailed off.

Jameson pressed a button and the trunk of a small silver sports car popped open next to them. "Get in. Both of you."

"The trunk? Again? What is it with bad guys and the trunk? Really, we could just sit quietly in the backseat, maybe watch a DVD," Chuck suggested as he and Sarah were forced into the trunk yet again.

"This car doesn't have a DVD player," Jameson grunted. "Maybe once I upgrade I could reconsider." And he slammed the trunk closed unceremoniously.

"This car…" Chuck grunted as he shifted against her. "Is smaller than the last one."

That, Sarah thought, was an understatement. She and Chuck were wedged tightly into the small space, Chuck's lanky frame curled around hers. She thought her head might be resting on his arm, but she couldn't turn to look. His other arm was wrapped around her waist. She ran her hand over his forearm. "Chuck, are you all right? You must be awfully uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," he said. His arm tightened around her waist. "I've been less comfortable before, in my life."

"Me too," she said softly.

"What do you think happened to Casey?"

"They must have gotten to him. Otherwise he'd have intercepted Jameson before he got to us."

"I'm sorry about that," Chuck said. "You were right, I should have just done what you said, and not gotten, you know, distracted."

"Chuck, you didn't do anything wrong." She paused. "Actually, it's my fault. I lost focus."

"Y-you lost focus?"

"Yes. I let him out of my sight when I was supposed to be watching him."

"You lost focus," Chuck repeated. He paused. "Um, when you lost focus, was that… you know, right after I got distracted?"

She hesitated a fraction of a second. "Yes."

"Huh." Pause. "So, you're saying... _I_ caused you to lose focus."

She ignored him. "I should have known Jameson was setting us up for a trap. My negligence was inexcusable."

"Totally," Chuck agreed. "This is all your fault." She could hear the wide grin in his voice as plain as if it were right in front of her. If she could see him, she was sure he'd have the same happy, goofy look on his face as he'd had that morning. The idiot was held at gunpoint, kidnapped, and was now facing almost certain death, and he was actually happy about it because it proved she was not unaffected by him.

"Chuck, are you serious about Jill?" she blurted out.

His arm around her waist slackened. There was a long pause. "I want to be," he said finally. "I care about her, I always will. And I don't have to pretend anything to be with her. But we're not the same people we used to be. And the thing is-"

The trunk popped open and Jameson glared down at them. "Cozy?"

"Do you mind?" Chuck said. "We're kind of having a moment here."

"Get out," he snarled.

Chuck and Sarah climbed out obediently. Sarah's eyes darted around them, taking in the specs of the situation. They were in a darkened underground parking lot, apparently deserted. Great. No way to tell where they were. Jameson prodded them with the gun to get them moving, and they walked towards an elevator.

He pushed the button to go up, and they waited a moment until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He motioned for them to go in first.

Chuck, standing next to the elevator buttons, cleared his throat. "What floor?"

"Lobby level," the man growled.

Chuck pushed the button for the lobby level. "So, how 'bout those Dodgers this year?" he said in an effort to break the tension.

"I do not follow baseball," Jameson said harshly.

"Right, you're probably more a cricket kind of fellow," Chuck said wisely. "I could never understand cricket, myself. Part of being American, I guess, like not knowing the name of Canada's prime minister and always asking for ketchup for our meat, no matter the venue."

"Enough chitchat," he barked as the doors opened again. "Get moving."

They exited the elevator into the lobby. It looked like any other non-descript lobby in a non-descript business building to Sarah, but Chuck must have recognized something from his flash, because he squeezed her hand and whispered urgently, "It's the bank. Washington First National, prime lender since 1893."

She looked up automatically, checking for security. There were security cameras affixed to the walls, as predicted, but they'd been disabled.

Jameson guided them through the main operating space of the bank, past empty teller booths, and financial officers' desks collecting dust. Clearly the place had not been functioning as a bank for some time. Jameson led them behind the teller's counter.

They could see Casey being held at gunpoint a few feet away. He and Sarah exchanged chagrined glances. Chuck, meanwhile, was staring around himself, oblivious.

There were a half a dozen men in all, and they appeared to be loading up bags full of cash from the giant safe in the back of the bank.

"Clearing out, huh?" Chuck said to Jameson. "Probably a smart move. I read in the paper the city is planning a restoration of this bank starting next week. All those construction workers would probably notice somebody producing thousands of dollars in fake money every day if you stuck around here."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Jameson said, exasperated.

"But the thing is, where are you going to go?" Chuck continued, undeterred. "This has pretty much been the perfect set up. Nobody's watching you coming and going, the building's been abandoned for years, you have plenty of space for your counterfeit machine, plus I imagine you've set up a secure database to track assets gained from your arms deals and places to hide them. Clever, really to switch the real money with these fake greenbacks so nobody misses it."

"So glad you approve," Jameson said sarcastically.

"It's a good plan. And I'm sure you have a back up plan to protect the money in case it got transferred to the wrong account somehow. I mean, after all your hard work, it would suck to have nothing but several million dollars in fake money to show for it."

"That would never happen," Jameson scoffed.

Sarah glanced at Chuck, wondering where he was going with all this.

Chuck paused dramatically. "Are you sure about that?"

Jameson pointed to a man on his left. "See him? He's the top technical security guy we've got. Nothing gets by him."

"That's funny, because I'm the top technical security guy they've got," Chuck said confidently, pointing to Casey and Sarah. "And I can tell you, something got by him."

Jameson hesitated. "You're lying."

Chuck shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe we've been tracking you for months, and we've traced every penny you've wired through the Caymans, Panama, Switzerland, and Dubai, and we've alerted several very unhappy Colombian drug lords you've been cheating them for over a year and a half. If that's the case, it's my calculation that they should be delivering you into a whole world of pain sometime in, oh, I don't know, the next two days. Unless you can figure out how to override their system and convince them you really have deposited the right number of millions of dollars into their accounts."

Jameson glanced at his top technical security guy, who was looking nervous. "Well?" he barked. "Is this guy full of shit, or what?"

The top technical security guy shook his head uncertainly. "I- I don't know, boss."

Jameson stared at him. "What the fuck do you mean, you don't know? Are you saying this could be true?"

The other man shrugged nervously. "Well, my security's tight… but how would he know about the routing path I used for the money?"

Jameson swore. "What the fuck do we do now? Can you figure out if he's telling the truth?"

The other man shook his head. "If he breached the system without me knowing it, he must have put up counter defensive measures to block his actions from my view."

"And if he did move the money, how do we get it back?"

Top security guy shrugged helplessly. "If he's the one who overcame my security measures, he's the only one who would have access to it. You'd have to let him get onto the database and move it back."

Jameson turned back to Chuck with a look of loathing. "Fine. Get onto the database and move the money back."

Chuck nodded, and moved toward the computer sitting on a desk near the safe door. He made eye contact with Sarah and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

She raised her eyebrows back at him questioningly, and he nodded imperceptibly, apparently satisfied with the exchange. The only trouble was, Sarah had no idea what they had just communicated. She stared at him as he sat down at the computer, as did everyone in the room. He looked back up at her and gave her an extra meaningful look with super raised eyebrows. She huffed to herself. Just because she was a spy didn't make her a mind reader. Clearly, he expected her to do something to help his plan. She, however, had no clue what his plan was, and didn't have the faintest idea how she was supposed to help him with it, what with the madman watching her suspiciously and at least five guns trained on her.

So she did the only thing she could think of: she went for the diversion. Clearing her throat loudly, she said, "So, Jameson, how'd you get hooked up with this operation in the first place? Doesn't seem like your usual style."

"My usual style being what?" sneered Jameson.

Sarah shrugged, trying to keep his eyes on her. "Cruel. Sadistic. Come on, who's really getting hurt in this one?"

His lip curled in an unpleasant smile. "Present company excluded?"

"Yeah, I mean, obviously you didn't mean for us to get involved, you just stumbled across us at that restaurant. So who is your real target here?"

"What makes you think I'm not just in it for the money? Maybe I'm just trying to make good with my insurance company, as your friend says."

"Because you've gotta be burned about what happened in Cairo. They just cut you loose after everything you did for them? You were stuck for two years in a make-work assignment- that's plenty of time for someone of your caliber to think up some decent revenge. My guess is Colombians aside, this thing you're working on now has got something to screw your British traitor brass but good."

He chuckled. "Agent Walker, you think too well of me. I'm not nearly as ambitious as you're making me out to be. I'm a strictly traditional mercenary- I go where the money is, and then I get out."

Sarah's eyes darted to Chuck. He was bending over the computer, but when he felt her eyes on him, he looked up and made a 'continue,' motion with his hand.

What was he up to? She snapped her eyes back to Jameson. "I hope it's worth your while, then."

He laughed. "Oh, it is. And no pesky blondes after me with copper pipes, either. I'm really moving up in the world."

"It really is a pity I didn't crush your other knee when I had the chance," Sarah muttered.

She glanced back at Chuck. He looked up at her and gave her the 'ok' sign. Good. That was good. Of course, it would be even better if she had the faintest idea what he was doing, but 'ok' was good.

Jameson followed her gaze to Chuck. "Well?" he said. "Is everything in its proper place?"

"Sure, sure, nothing to worry about. No Colombians will be coming out of the woodwork any time soon."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"You're sure?"

"Totally."

"Would you be willing to bet your life on it?"

"Absolutely," Chuck said confidently.

Jameson smiled without mirth and raised his gun. He swung around and pointed it straight at Sarah. "Would you be willing to bet _her_ life on it?"

Chuck's face fell, and his eyes swept back and forth between Jameson and Sarah. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't hurt her, okay? I did what you wanted, so there's no reason to hurt her. Please don't hurt her."

"If you did what I wanted, there's really no need for me to keep her alive, now, is there?"

Chuck came out from behind the desk, walking towards Jameson slowly with his hands out in front of him in a gesture of supplication. "Oh, come on now, I just sent 100 million dollars into a very nice account for you, and you're still sore about a little old knee replacement surgery? With the amount of money we just provided you with, you could get six new knees and a couple dozen hips- whaddya say we let bygones be bygones and forget about shooting anybody, ok?" He eased his way in front of Jameson, entreating him in that nervous, yet endearing way of his. Too late, Sarah realized he had maneuvered himself between her and the gun. He was trying to protect her again.

She was going to kill him.

First, however, they needed to get out of this. She shifted slightly, but if she tried to move now, she was sure to spook Jameson into firing before she got Chuck out of harm's way. She looked at Casey. He shook his head. They were outnumbered four to one. Odds she wouldn't mind taking on in other circumstances, but not while a traitorous sadist had a gun trained on Chuck.

Chuck glanced back at her, and she could have sworn he actually winked at her. Casually, he put his right hand behind his back. He opened his fist, and started ticking down the seconds with his fingers, drawing them back into the fist one by one. Five, four, three, two…

A deafening alarm sounded, and pandemonium broke loose. Casey charged Jameson, who had let his guard down in his surprise at the blaring alarm, and Sarah rounded on the two guys closest to her, clocking the first one before he knew what hit him, and taking the second one out with a powerful roundhouse kick. Chuck, meanwhile, kicked the top security guy in the shin, and smashed the keyboard over his head. Then he turned to Sarah. "We've got to get out of here, or we're going to be locked in with these guys for the next twenty minutes, or however long it takes for the police to get here, whichever comes first."

"Okay," she nodded. She smashed her fist into a third assailant's nose and then grabbed Chuck's hand. "Which way?"

"This way," Chuck said, heading towards the back door.

"Casey, come on," Sarah called.

Casey kicked Jameson's bad knee and left him writhing on the floor.

The metal grate used to protect the door at night was starting to drop down. Chuck flung himself underneath it, pulling Sarah along behind him. The thing was only a couple of feet above the floor by the time Casey dove and slid under it, and it closed with a clang as they sprinted down the hall and out into the parking garage.

Chuck was running full tilt towards the car Jameson had kidnapped them in, but Sarah slowed down. "Chuck, hang on. If they're locked in there, we should wait for the police to get here and make sure they know what's going on."

Chuck shook his head. "No time. Top security guy has probably figured out what I did by now, and he's probably going to override the locks. If we don't get out of here now, they could be all over us in two minutes. You want to take a chance the cops are going to get here in that amount of time in L.A. traffic?"

"Bartowski's got a point," Casey said, yanking open the car door and diving in the backseat. "Let's get the hell out of Dodge and worry about your friend later."

Sarah sighed, but complied. She got in the front seat and hotwired the car in under fifteen seconds. Chuck, in the passenger seat, watched admiringly. "That's really quite impressive," he commented.

Sarah was not in the mood for compliments. "Chuck, what the hell were you thinking?" she said as she peeled out of the parking spot and hit the gas. "You compromised your safety, again. Do you realize how dangerous Jameson is? He could have shot you! I know you think yourself quite the hero, but I'm the agent, you're the asset. I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around. Don't you ever, ever put yourself in front of a gun for me again, or I'll make you regret it for the rest of your miserable life!"

Chuck's smile faded. "Gee, thanks, Chuck, for devising a plan to get us out of that mess. Really, what would we do without you?" he said sarcastically.

"How'd you get the alarm to go off, anyway?" Casey asked from the backseat.

"I flashed on top security guy and his file had his birthday in it. Most people are boringly predictable when they set passwords, even technical wizards, so I took a chance that he was too, and hacked into his system using his birthday as the password. The bank's old security system was still functioning, it was just turned off. I hacked into the central system and hit the panic button."

"Nice work," Casey said grudgingly.

It was brilliant, but Sarah was too mad to acknowledge that. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and they shot out of the parking structure and headed back to the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

"Nice work, you three. Thanks to the asset's efforts, the U.S. government was able to recover over 100 million dollars stolen by Jameson and his crew. Unfortunately, they were able to escape the bank before the police arrived, but we have reason to believe they are still in the area. We think they're trying to recover the money before they skip town." General Beckman peered at them through the giant screen as she wrapped up their debriefing.

"As would anyone who thought pissed off Colombian drug lords were after them for stealing said money," Chuck said reasonably.

Sarah ignored him. "General, what happened at the bank was inexcusable. If it weren't for me getting distra-"

"General, there's no real reason for the asset to be here for the rest of this debriefing," Casey interrupted. "If he doesn't get back to work at the Buy More soon, his cover will be seriously compromised."

"Very well, Major Casey. Chuck, you can go." Chuck looked back and forth between Sarah and Casey suspiciously, but got up and headed for the exit.

Sarah glared at Casey. He had no right to interrupt her like that. However, she admitted to herself grudgingly, confessing that her mistake had put the asset in danger would be significantly less mortifying if Chuck were not present.

Once Chuck had left, she turned back to General Beckman immediately. "General, it was my fault we were compromised and held captive by Jameson in the first place. I allowed myself to be distracted, and it led not only to myself and Major Casey being disarmed and kidnapped, but put the asset directly in the line of fire."

"Agent Walker, it's my impression that you were instrumental in identifying the mark and tracking him to the bank, as well as getting the three of you out alive."

"That's incorrect, ma'am. If it weren't for the asset's actions in triggering the security alarm, Jameson probably would have killed all three of us and succeeded in destroying the intersect."

"Is this true, Major Casey?"

Sarah barreled ahead before Casey could reply. "Ma'am, I think it's best that you should know I've allowed myself to be emotionally compromised by the asset, a fact which today placed him in grave danger."

"Major Casey?"

He cleared his throat. "That's incorrect, General. Jameson was prepared for us; we weren't prepared for him. It's as simple as that. I was not emotionally compromised, and he and his goons were still able to disarm me and take me to that bank. Regardless of Agent Walker's perception of events, we were ambushed, and I doubt we would have been able to avoid being captured unless we had known what we were going into the minute we entered the restaurant. The asset didn't flash on him, he only flashed on the money he carried, so we had no way of knowing who we were dealing with until he identified himself to Agent Walker."

"And what of Agent Walker's assertion that her mistake put the asset in the line of fire?"

"General, the asset put himself in the line of fire. Agent Walker has repeatedly emphasized to him that his safety is to be prioritized over ours, but his nature dictates that he not abandon the people on his team when they are in trouble. I have no doubt that if someone threatened me, Chuck would do everything in his power to protect me, even at great risk to himself. Obviously this isn't ideal, but I don't think there's anything we can do short of locking him up to stop him from trying to protect Agent Walker and myself. I admit I find his failure to obey orders irritating, but we've been working with him long enough that I think it's safe to conclude that if we continue to use him in the field, we're going to have to accept that we can't control him."

Sarah looked away.

"That is a problem," the General said slowly. "We can't have the asset endangering himself by trying to protect the agents."

"If I may make a suggestion, General?" Casey said. She nodded assent. "Chuck's actions are only foolish because he's considered an asset. If he were Agent Walker's partner, however, his actions would be considered brave, heroic even. He's proven himself to be useful in the field. Why not consider upgrading his status to field agent?"

Sarah looked at him incredulously. "Because he's still the intersect. The information he holds is too valuable to compromise as casually as you're suggesting. We can't let him endanger himself by assigning him to normal fieldwork as an agent."

Casey ignored her. "Respectfully, General, we may not have a choice anymore. Chuck has proven himself more and more likely to make unpredictable decisions. If we train him as an agent, then maybe we could get him to work with us rather than acting completely contrary to our orders at his own whim."

This was not going as Sarah had planned. "General, as I've said, I've become emotionally compromised by the asset. Today I allowed that to endanger the asset. I can't in good conscience continue this assignment given the current circumstances."

"Are you asking to be reassigned?"

Sarah swallowed. "I—I just want you to be aware of all the facts, ma'am."

"Major Casey, what's your take on this?"

Casey snorted. "General, trust me. If protecting the asset is your number one priority, Agent Walker is the best person for the job. She will do absolutely anything to keep him safe. And as for him… well, if you took Agent Walker away from his protection detail, you could forget about getting cooperation from the asset. She's the only hope we have of maintaining any kind of control over him."

Hardly. Sarah grimaced. She couldn't even stop him from throwing himself in front of a gun.

"Very well," the General said. "Agent Walker, you will continue in your current assignment and the two of you will proceed with the mission as planned. I'll consider the idea of training Chuck as an agent and get back to you."

The General clicked off and Sarah and Casey were alone in the castle.

"Why did you do that?" Sarah asked stiffly. "I was prepared to walk away."

Casey snorted. "Like hell you were. But in case you haven't forgotten, this isn't about you. I meant what I said. Chuck's getting out of control with the heroics. Training him is our best way of making sure he can be heroic the smart way. Besides, with all the scrapes he gets in, don't you think it would be better if he could protect himself a little better?"

"Of course, but—"

"And I was right about the other thing too. If you were reassigned, Chuck would cease functioning as the intersect out of pure stubbornness."

"Chuck is very loyal to his country, he'd do the right thing-"

"That may be, but there's something else he's even more loyal to, and if I can use that to keep him safe, I'm damn well going to do it."

"I—"

"And there's another thing you're forgetting."

"What's that?"

"If he were an agent, you wouldn't need to worry so much about being 'emotionally compromised.'"

"What… what do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, if he were an agent, you two would have each other's backs. You'd be on even ground, so to speak."

Sarah continued to look at him blankly. Casey sighed. "Look, let's just say, if you were to spend the night at Chuck's place more frequently, I would be able to stop spending my evenings listening to him and Grimes talk about what sandwich they would take to a desert island."

"I don't think that would be very appropriate, given that he's just started seeing Jill again," Sarah said stiffly.

Casey shook his head. "God, you're dumb."

Sarah flushed. "Yeah, well, thanks for…" she trailed off. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Casey said gruffly. He looked at her. "Really. Don't. Ever."

She smiled weakly. "Mention what?" And she went back upstairs to the Orange Orange.


	5. Chapter 5

It was her turn to do audio surveillance on Chuck again that night. She looked at the equipment with loathing. She'd rather undergo Chinese water torture than listen to Chuck be all cute and funny and charming for another woman, but it was part of the job. She'd already used up her share of unprofessionalism for the decade with the Jameson debacle, so she was going to have to suck it up and listen in on Chuck's date with Jill.

She did it, but she hated it. Beyond her… concern… (jealousy, that wasn't the right word for detached, emotionless spies, not right at all) that Jill wasn't good enough for him, she hated that she was intruding on Chuck's privacy, that she was betraying his trust in this way.

After that, Casey somehow mysteriously ended up being scheduled for surveillance on all the nights Chuck had a date. She knew she ought to insist on taking on her fair share, but she was too grateful for his interference to protest. She hoped she made up for it by taking on all the evenings he spent with Morgan alone, though really, this felt just as much of a betrayal of privacy as the other. Just less painful.

Meanwhile, their cover was not doing well. She'd stopped initiating the public displays of affection, telling herself it was better to be perceived as cold than to expose herself to the danger of getting carried away again. Ellie noticed, of course, and seemed to think her brother had done something unforgivable, judging by her solicitousness towards Sarah. Sarah put her off as best she could, but the elder Bartowski was clearly convinced something was wrong, and she watched both of them with inconveniently perceptive eyes.

Meanwhile, Chuck had gone on eight dates with Jill. Eight. In three weeks. Sarah found herself grinding her teeth and forced herself to stop. Eight dates was a lot of dates for someone who had to balance evening shifts at the Buy More and cover dates with his fake girlfriend. He'd actually switched a shift with one of the other nerd herders to go out with her tonight. He told Big Mike he had a family obligation, and had explained to Sarah and Casey that he wanted to take advantage of a night when they weren't working on their latest mission. They'd reached an impasse with the Jameson thing, and were waiting for something new to break before they could proceed. So Chuck was on a date and Sarah was pummeling the crap out of the punching bag in the castle.

She kicked the stuffing out of the punching bag for an extra half hour, but it didn't help. She was too antsy. She needed a distraction.

She stared at her phone, unsure whether or not this was wise. On the other hand, what else was she going to do on a Friday night? Sit around the castle and mope… er, review intelligence reports? Sighing, she dialed the phone, resigned to doing something she never thought she'd do.

"Morgan? It's Sarah."

"Sarah, hi," Morgan said, sounding surprised. "Uh, what can I do for you?"

Sarah closed her eyes. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Will you teach me how to play Call of Duty?"

****

Morgan glanced over at Sarah, who was sitting next to him on his mom's couch, eyes focused intently on the screen, as she wielded the game controller with intense concentration.

"So, Sarah… where's the Chuckster this evening? I thought you guys were like, connected at the hip."

"He had a previous engagement," Sarah said, her eyes not leaving the screen.

"A previous engagement?" Morgan said, nonplussed. "With who? Half his social life is sitting on this couch, and I happen to know Awesome is taking Ellie out for a date tonight."

Sarah hesitated, then shot an enemy player through the heart. "With John Casey."

"What? Chuck is hanging out with John Casey? Instead of you and me?" Morgan sounded deeply offended.

"He's not really hanging out with him," Sarah said quickly, sensing Morgan's distress. "He's installing a home entertainment system for him. Casey's not really good with technology, so he asked Chuck to do it. And Chuck is, well…"

"Scared of him," finished Morgan. He relaxed, his fear of Chuck abandoning them put to rest. "As any rational human being smaller than a tank would be."

"Right," Sarah said, relieved. She turned her attention back to the screen, positioning her player meticulously.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Morgan said, alarmed. "You're going to get killed!"

"No, I've got them cornered, see?" Sarah said, her eyes trained on the game. "I've got two guys coming in on the left, a sniper over there on the right, and two more guys coming up on their rear flank."

Morgan blinked. "Wha… wait, I thought you said you never played this before."

"I haven't," Sarah said as she set her plan into action.

Morgan stared at the screen as enemy players were destroyed one by one. "That's amazing."

"You know, Morgan," Sarah said, blowing the head off a German soldier. "This game isn't half bad."

xxx

"I'm telling you, Chuck, I've never seen anything like it!" Morgan was saying excitedly. "She annihilated the opposition, completely destroyed them!"

"Sarah came over your house to play Call of Duty last night?" Chuck said, sounding bemused.

"Yeah, dude, she told me how Casey was making you install his entertainment system or he was going to beat you up, so I guess she got lonely without you and decided to come hang with me til you were free."

"Lonely?" Chuck repeated, frowning.

"Sure, she must have missed you. I mean, she spends like 24/7 with you, so if you're busy she probably doesn't have a lot of other people to hang out with, you know?"

"And according to you, this led her to go over to your mother's house to play Call of Duty with you?"

"Yeah, and she was freaking amazing! She's a brilliant strategist, outmaneuvered a team twice as big as hers in under three minutes, and she's not a bad shot, either. I'm telling you, no offense to Anna, but if I ever found a girl who could kick that much ass in Call of Duty the first time she played, I'd marry her on the spot. No wonder you love her so much, man."

"Right," Chuck said, sounding confused.

"Hey guys," Sarah said, coming up behind them.

Chuck jumped. "Hi Sarah!" he said nervously.

"Sarah, my muse, my goddess of destruction, when are we going to play Call of Duty again?" Morgan said eagerly. "You need to show Chuck firsthand your mad skills with an assault rifle. I'm telling you, the way to a man's heart is through his tactical advance line. One look at your marksmanship, and he's yours for life."

"Too true," Chuck muttered.

"I don't know, Morgan. I'm not sure I'm going to be a regular player. I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about after hearing you and Chuck talk about it so much."

"What! But you have to play! I already told those Large Mart goons we had a new secret weapon. You have to play in the next rematch so we can take them down!"

Sarah smiled. "Tell you what, next time you have a tournament with Large Mart, I'll step up if you need an extra player. Otherwise, I'll stick to cheering from the sidelines."

"Deal," Morgan said. He looked over Chuck's shoulder and caught a glimpse of Big Mike out of the corner of his eye. "Whoops, gotta go. The boss is on the floor and if he sees me he's likely to ask me to start working. Out of sight, out of trouble, I always say." He disappeared.

Chuck looked over his shoulder. Big Mike took another donut from the box on the counter and then headed back to his office. Chuck turned back to Sarah. "So, you wanted to learn Call of Duty, huh?" he said, his lips twitching. "Why didn't you ask me to teach you?"

Sarah flushed. "I… I thought it would be good for our cover if I got to know your best friend a bit better. You know, the girlfriend proving she's not going to be a threat to the male bonding relationship. And Call of Duty is something important to Morgan, so I thought that would be a good way to do it," she lied.

"Right. I figured it was something like that," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Well… also I was curious about it," she admitted reluctantly. He looked up hopefully. "I mean, you two talk about it all the time. I figured if I learned how to play, I'd know about an important part of your life. And as… odd as he is, I do like Morgan. He has a good heart. And he's another important part of your life. I can see why you guys are such good friends."

Chuck beamed at her.

She smiled uncertainly back at him and cleared her throat. "How, uh, how was your date with Jill?"

His smile faded. "Fine," he said shortly.

Sarah took in his cloudy expression. "Is everything all right? She didn't hurt you, did she?" she said, tensing.

He sighed. "No. We had a fight, that's all."

"Oh," Sarah said, unsure how to react. "What was it about?"

"Well, she's not crazy about the sneaking around, for one thing. Every time I go out with her I have to lie to about five different people, and I can't let her come over to my place because Ellie and Awesome think you and I are… anyway, it's no big deal, but it's a sore point with her."

"I understand. That must be difficult for both of you. I'm sorry you being the intersect has compromised your ability to have a personal life," Sarah said sincerely.

He smiled wryly. "Yeah. I guess I don't really have a right to complain, though. I mean, you never do."

"I signed up for this," she reminded him. "You didn't have a choice."

He waited a beat. "So you're saying I have a free pass to a pity party because I'm the intersect?"

She smiled. "Absolutely."

"Sweet."

She touched his arm. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve… the best."

He met her eyes with his. "I think I have it."

She dropped her hand from his arm. "Right," she said awkwardly. He had a beautiful girlfriend who loved him. What could be better than that? "I hope everything works out with Jill."

"Sarah—"

Sarah pasted a smile on her face. "When are you seeing her again?"

"Tonight, but—"

"Great. Have a good time," she said, turning on her heel to leave.

"I—"

She paused, and turned slightly to face him again. "You know Chuck, if you're half as good a real boyfriend as you are a fake one, you won't have anything to worry about with Jill. She'll be crazy about you before she knows it. She won't be able to help herself."

He stared at her, speechless.

"See you later, Chuck," she said softly, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days passed without incident. Sarah caught up on her intelligence reports, cleaned her gun about twelve times, polished and sharpened each and every one of her knives, and was starting to worry that her punching bag might actually lose its functionality from overuse. She sighed. She really needed to get a hobby.

She was just wishing she had let Chuck teach her how to download movies illegally onto the big screen in the castle when her phone rang. It was Casey.

"What's up? Do we have a new mission?" she asked hopefully.

"It's Bartowski," came the curt reply. "He's hurt."

Sarah's stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"It was Jameson's goons. They got a line on him and followed him to where he was having dinner with his date. They staged a drive by and shot at them. Chuck got his girlfriend out of the way but they hit him."

Sarah's insides turned to ice. "Is he-?" She couldn't say the words.

"They're taking him to the hospital right now. That's all I know."

The phone slipped out of her fingers as she bolted for the door.

***

She must have broken every traffic law known to man on the way to the hospital, racing through the L.A. streets in the Porsche at an impossible speed.

She burst into Chuck's hospital room without waiting to check what was on the other side of the door.

Jill was there, sitting at Chuck's side, but Sarah only had eyes for Chuck. He was lying on the hospital bed, looking long and pale—so pale—but the machine next to him registered the sound of his wonderfully strong heart beating. She crossed to stand next to him in two long strides. "How's he doing?" she asked, not taking her eyes off Chuck.

Jill blinked at her. "He's… okay."

"What happened?"

"This car… it came out of nowhere. And then they shot at us. Chuck pushed me down. He was amazing. I can't believe he'd do something like that, just to protect me," she said, sounding awed.

"I can," Sarah said, her eyes still on Chuck's pale face. "That's who he is. He'd never think twice about putting his life in danger if he thought it would protect someone he cares about."

"The bullet caught him on the shoulder. His collarbone is broken." Jill's voice hitched. "There was so much blood."

Sarah paled, and closed her eyes. She forced herself to listen to the sound of the machine beeping to the rhythm of his heart. It was okay. He was alive. "What did the doctors say?"

"They stopped the bleeding and stitched him up. He'll be pretty sore for awhile, and he'll have to do physical therapy, but… he's going to be fine."

Sarah leaned forward and tenderly pressed a kiss to his forehead, closing her eyes in pure gratitude that he was all right. "I swear to you, I'm never going to let them hurt you again, Chuck," she told his sleeping form quietly. "I promise."

Blindly, she sat down next to his bedside, clasping his cool hand in hers, her eyes still trained on his face.

Dimly, she was aware of Jill watching her, but she didn't care. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She wouldn't. Not until he woke up.

The door opened, and Ellie came in, followed by Awesome. "Oh, my God," she said, her voice thick with tears. "My baby brother…"

"He's going to be all right, Ellie," Sarah said without turning around.

"What happened?"

"There was a drive-by shooting. Chuck was shot in the shoulder and has a broken collarbone, but he's going to be fine," she said mechanically.

"He looks so weak, lying there like that."

"He's not weak," Sarah said fiercely, still not looking up. "He's the strongest person I know, and he's going to get through this."

Jill stood awkwardly. "Maybe I should give you some time alone."

Though she wasn't looking at her, Sarah could tell Ellie was just noticing Jill for the first time. " _Jill?_ What on earth are you doing here?" she said, sounding flabbergasted.

"I was with Chuck when it happened," Jill explained.

"You were out with Chuck?" Ellie said, disbelievingly.

"I… yes."

"Chuck was cheating on Sarah? With _you?"_ she said, her voice going very high.

"Chuck wasn't cheating on me," Sarah said dully. "I knew they were meeting tonight."

"You _knew_?"

Sarah sighed. "It's not a big deal, Ellie. Chuck has his reasons. He's not a cheater. He's been perfectly honest with me about what he's doing. And… I trust him."

Ellie seemed to compose herself. "Of course," she said briskly. "Chuck would never betray you. Why would he?" Sarah knew without turning Chuck's sister was shooting a nasty look towards Jill.

Jill edged towards the door. "Like I said," she said coolly. "I'll give you some time alone."

After Jill left, Ellie sank into the chair she had vacated. Awesome stood at her shoulder. "How could this happen?" she moaned.

"This is all my fault," Sarah said, gripping Chuck's hand. "I shouldn't have left him alone tonight. I should have been with him."

"It was a drive by shooting," Ellie said. "Don't blame yourself. There's nothing you could have done."

Sarah said nothing. She should have been there. She wouldn't make that mistake again. From now on, she'd be there for him, no matter what.

***

Chuck was released from the hospital two days later. Sarah took him home. She helped him back into his bedroom. He was very quiet. Had been, really, ever since she'd arrived at the hospital.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked anxiously once she'd gotten him settled into his bed.

He leaned back onto his pillows and winced. "I'm fine."

"Do you need an extra pillow?" she persisted. "Or some water? Maybe something to eat. You must be tired of hospital food. I'm sure Ellie has leftovers or something in the fridge."

"Sarah. I'm fine."

She lapsed into silence for a moment. "Are you… are you in a lot of pain?" she said finally, her throat tight.

"I've felt better, that's for sure," he said tiredly. "But those industrial strength painkillers they've got me on seem to be doing their job."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He looked at her. "Look, you should go home. Get some rest. You must be exhausted after camping out at the hospital for two days."

"I… I thought I'd stay," she said hesitantly. "If you don't mind."

"What for? I think our cover's safe. Your little bedside vigil act was pretty convincing. Ellie and Awesome understand you've got to go back to your place sometime."

She flinched, but didn't correct his perception of her behavior as an act. "I just… want to stay close."

He looked at her in alarm, misinterpreting her tone once again. "Do you think Jameson is going to come after me here?"

"I don't know, Chuck."

"Do you think Ellie and Awesome are in any danger?" he said worriedly.

"There's no reason to think they're in danger at the moment."

"But—"

"Chuck, I'm not going to let anything happen to them, okay? This whole thing is my fault anyway, and I'm not going to let anything else like this happen. I'm going to keep you safe."

He looked at her oddly. "How is this your fault?"

"I should have been more vigilant, more prepared. I know Jameson, I know how he thinks. I should have realized he might try something like this."

"You couldn't have known," Chuck said. "Don't blame yourself."

Sarah shook her head, disbelieving.

Chuck closed his eyes, clearly tiring. "Don't know why I'm so sleepy," he muttered. "I've been lying down for the past two days."

"Your body is just taking the time it needs to heal," Sarah told him. "Plus I'm sure the painkillers are making you drowsy as well."

He nodded, not having the energy to formulate a further response.

"So you don't mind if I stay?" Sarah asked.

He gestured weakly. "Suit yourself."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sarah shrugged out of her jacket and climbed into bed with him.

Feeling the bed shift under him, Chuck cracked one eye open in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you said I could stay?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were going to be so… close."

"Does this bother you?"

"Nooo," he said slowly. "It doesn't bother me."

She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "I just want to make sure you're all right, Chuck."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to take care of you, Chuck. I promise." She slid her hand down his arm and gently worked her fingers to interweave with his own and squeezed his hand.

She might have thought he was already asleep, but once their hands were fully intertwined, he squeezed back gently. She sighed with relief. She watched him sleep—for how long, she didn't know—and then sleep overtook her as well.

xxx

"Sarah."

"Hmm."

She woke to find Ellie shaking her gently. "Sarah, honey, wake up."

Sarah blinked up at her. "What time is it?"

"A little after six."

"How long have I been out?"

"About three hours."

Sarah stared at her. "I've been asleep three hours? In the middle of the day?" She became aware that she was curled up tightly against Chuck's side, her arm protectively draped over his stomach and her head buried in the crook of his good shoulder. Chuck was snoring lightly, his mouth hanging slightly open and his hand covering hers on top of his stomach.

Ellie appeared not to notice this. "I made some dinner. Come and eat something. You've barely had a bite the past few days."

Sarah looked back at Chuck. "Yeah. All right."

The truth was Sarah didn't have much appetite, but Ellie hovered over her until she ate a respectable portion of the chicken and rice pilaf she'd prepared.

She'd never eaten dinner at Ellie's without offering to do the dishes afterwards, but tonight she merely stuck hers in the dishwasher mechanically and quietly went back to Chuck's room. He was still asleep, but when she climbed back into bed with him, he rolled over and looked at her with bleary eyes.

"Hey," he croaked.

"Hey," she whispered back.

"You're still here."

She reached out and tentatively brushed back that stubborn lock of hair away from his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

He stared at her. "'Kay."

She stayed with him like that for four days. She got him water when he was thirsty, brought him snacks pilfered from the kitchen when he was hungry, helped him to the bathroom, but mainly, just stayed with him. Ellie popped in every so often, and always saw the same thing. Chuck, lying helplessly, his face contorted in pain and Sarah next to him, pale and drawn.

Jill came to visit Chuck on the third day. She entered the bedroom with a disapproving but silent Ellie behind her. She caught sight of Sarah lying on the bed next to Chuck and she faltered visibly. Sarah thought dispassionately that it was odd seeing such a beautiful woman look so unsure of herself.

Jill shuffled on her feet for a moment or two. It was comical, really, if you thought about it. Chuck and Sarah were staring at her, saying nothing, and she stood there awkwardly. "Hi."

"Hi Jill," Chuck said warily. Sarah regarded Jill with a cool eye but didn't bother to respond.

"How are you feeling?" Jill asked tentatively.

"I've been better," Chuck replied with a weak smile.

"Listen," she said, with a side-long look at Sarah. "I don't know if this is the best time, but… can we talk?"

"Yeah, okay."

Jill glanced at Sarah but Sarah made no move to leave. Jill cleared her throat. "Alone?"

Sarah ignored her, but looked to Chuck for her cue. Chuck nodded at her and she got up and left the room without a word.

Sarah sat down on the couch and turned her mind rather determinedly to avoiding thinking what Jill and Chuck were talking about. Of course, she could always get Casey to pull the surveillance tapes later… but that wouldn't exactly help her fulfill her resolve to be a better friend and be more respectful of Chuck's privacy. On the other hand, nobody's perfect…

They probably weren't talking about anything interesting, anyway, she told herself sternly. Maybe they were talking about… the weather. Always an interesting topic in L.A. It's supposed to be 75 and sunny tomorrow, really? And the day after that, too? And every day until global warming upset the geothermal balance of the whole planet?

Okay, maybe not the weather. She scowled at the coffee table as Ellie dropped down on the couch next to her, handing her a cup of tea.

Thankfully, Ellie didn't try to make conversation. They waited together in silence, an understanding passing between them that required no words. Sarah spared a thought to be grateful to Ellie, who treated her like she was her own sister—

The door to Chuck's room opened. Jill came out, her mouth tight. When she saw Sarah and Ellie turn to look at her from the couch, she stopped. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and shook her head as though thinking better of it, and left without a word.

Sarah watched her leave without regret. Anyone who could let something like this happen to Chuck without making the least effort to help him wasn't worth the effort it took to resent her. How could she have just let Chuck take that bullet for her, without even trying to keep him safe? Didn't she know the idiot was too noble for his own good, and needed someone to protect him? She'd been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for Chuck's sake, but now she had enough evidence to independently draw the conclusion that Jill was pretty much useless.

She looked over at Ellie, who gave her an encouraging sort of look, and she got up with a sigh. She grabbed another mug of tea to take to Chuck, and went back to Chuck's room.

She knocked, hesitantly.

"Come in," Chuck called.

She entered. Chuck was still on the bed, looking pensive. She approached him warily, setting the tea on the bedside table and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Chuck didn't say anything.

"I brought you some tea," she said unnecessarily.

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Chuck, I—" she stopped, having no clue what she was trying to say. What had Jill said to him? Why had she come? Was she playing the devoted girlfriend, checking up on Chuck after he took a bullet for her? Hoping to show her gratitude by playing nurse? If she cared about him, why had she waited three days to come see him? Was it because she knew Sarah was already there and not willing to budge from Chuck's side without a fight? "Is everything all right?" she settled on at last.

Chuck looked over at her. "Yeah," he said cryptically. "I think things are finally straightened out. Everything is the way it's supposed to be, now."

Sarah nodded, having no idea what Chuck meant. A thousand questions flashed through her mind, not least of which was whether he and Jill were still together, but she bit her lip and said nothing. And in doing so, she learned something which she had never previously suspected about herself. She, Sarah Walker, was a coward. Because she would rather sit here and bite the inside of her cheek than ask whether or not Chuck and Jill were still a couple, because she didn't want to know the answer.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Chuck was feeling much better, and looked slightly more cheerful than he had done for quite some time. He kept glancing over at her while she attempted to read a report on arms shipments out of Kazakhstan. It was very distracting.

"Hey, Sarah," he said, propping himself up slightly on his elbows.

"Yes, Chuck?" she said warily.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"What kind of favor?"

"A special favor. A 'Chuck is injured and bored so I feel so sorry for him that I'm going to do something I'd never normally do' kind of favor."

"What is it?" she said uneasily. So help her if it had anything to do with Jill…

He grinned at her. "Sarah Walker, will you play Call of Duty with me?"

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite stop herself from smiling a little. She caught the game controller he tossed to her and got back on the bed to play video games with him for the rest of the evening.

****

Once Chuck was up and about again, Sarah rather awkwardly left to return to her apartment. She was relieved Chuck was feeling better, of course, and that he didn't seem to be in as much pain, but there was a part of her that experienced a stabbing feeling inside when she first reconnected to reality and remembered that Chuck's recovery was linked with her own necessary exit from the scene. She hadn't been thinking about anything other than keeping Chuck safe and healthy when she invited herself to stay with him for the better part of a week, but now that Chuck was getting back to normal it was hard to justify her continued presence there. She knew the first morning he got up and started getting back to work that she would have to go back to her apartment. Well, glorified hotel room, really.

So she told him briskly she needed to get something from her place before going to work and that she would see him at lunch, and then snuck out while he was in the shower, hoping she wouldn't run into Ellie and have to make any awkward excuses on her way out.

An hour later, she arrived at the Castle and found Casey polishing his favorite gun.

"There you are. Finally tired of playing Florence Nightingale?" he said snidely.

She really wasn't in the mood for Casey's needling today. She ignored him. "Anything new on Jameson?"

"Intel thinks they might have a line on one of his guys, but it's not for sure yet."

She frowned. "They found one of his people?"

"They think Allen, the tech, is meeting one of the Columbians from Jameson's last trip down there to negotiate a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"My bet is it's a deal to keep Jameson's ass alive by pulling a rabbit out of a hat—he's got nothing, and he knows it. He's going to try to bluff them in order to buy some time while he figures out his next move."

"Why is Jameson sending Allen instead of going himself?"

"He's spooked. Scared to poke his head out of doors after Bartowski rattled his cage about the Columbians and the money. Juarez, the guy Allen's supposed to meet is not what you'd call the forgiving type."

"Where is Allen meeting Juarez?"

"Intel thinks they'll be at a private club in Venice Beach later tonight. We'll have to keep our distance in case Allen recognizes us, but we should be able to do remote surveillance all right without exposing ourselves."

"Sounds great," Sarah said. "I'm really looking forward to taking Jameson down." And hopefully then grinding him into the dirt with a high-heeled boot, she added to herself. A brief image of herself grinding Jill into the dirt with a high-heeled boot surfaced unbidden, but she suppressed it brutally and focused on the task at hand.

"Hey, guys," Chuck's voice came from the landing above as he started to make his way down the stairs. His arm was in a sling which Morgan had already decorated with a handwritten slogan declaring Chuck a 'computer genius by day, damsel saving superhero by night.'

Sarah was not happy to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in. Hey, did I hear you say we have a mission?"

Sarah frowned at him. " _You_ do not have a mission. Those of us who do not have broken collar bones have a mission."

"But Casey said it's just surveillance, I heard him," Chuck protested. "You don't need a functioning collarbone for that. I could help."

"We don't need anyone giving away our position by ordering take out delivered to the van, thanks," Sarah said coldly.

"Aw, come on, Sarah, that was just one time! And you liked the sizzling shrimp, admit it. You ate all of yours and half of mine."

"Be that as it may, you're not coming tonight. You should go home and play computer games with Morgan."

"You might need my help."

"We already know what we're looking for, so we don't need you to flash," she said brusquely.

"Look, I promise I'll stay in the damn car, okay? But I should be a part of this. Those guys shot me—and at Jill—I want to be part of taking them down. And three heads are better than two, so it's in everyone's best interest—"

"I said _no_ , Chuck."

He glared at her. "Look, if I'm going to become a real agent, I should be included in the missions so I can learn as much as I can. And if tonight is just surveillance, that's the perfect opportunity for me to be learning about how you prepare for missions while there's no one chasing after us."

"That's not the point."

"What is the point, then?" he demanded, his eyes flashing.

"The point is, you shouldn't be—" she broke off. Something wasn't right. "Wait, did you say if you're going to become a _real_ agent?"

"Yes, if I'm going to be a real agent it makes sense to shadow you guys when the risk has been minimized, and—"

"They _shot_ you!" she shouted. "That isn't minimized risk, Chuck, that's you almost _dying._ "

"It's just a broken collar bone," he said dismissively. "It'll be fine."

She took a deep breath. "What exactly, put the idea into your head that you might be becoming a real agent?" she asked coolly.

"I—" Chuck started guiltily, realizing he'd misspoken. He tried valiantly to stop himself—Sarah could see the effort, but he was Chuck, after all, and his thoughts were never hidden very well behind his face, and he couldn't quite stop himself from letting his eyes slide over to Casey.

"You told him?" Sarah accused her partner.

He met her eyes. "Yeah."

"What the hell were you thinking, Casey?"

He glared at her. "I was thinking you're so concerned with keeping him tied to your apron strings you were never going to tell him. He has a right to know, so I told him. It's his choice, Walker, not yours. You can't protect him from everything."

"In case you've forgotten, Agent Casey, protecting him happens to be my job!" she shouted at him.

He stared at her coldly. "I haven't forgotten anything. You think you're willing to do anything to keep the asset safe? If you weren't so addled by the current circumstances, you'd see that teaching him to protect himself is the best way to do that! Bartowski is going with us on this mission tonight if he damn well wants to, so get it through those thick blonde locks of yours that there's nothing you can do to stop it!"

Sarah turned to Chuck angrily. "Well? You really think you can do this without screwing up? King of video games turned super agent?"

A flash of hurt passed through his eyes, but then he set his jaw and his face turned impassive. "I'm sorry if this upsets you Sarah, but I'm going tonight."

Sarah made a noise of suppressed rage, and then she turned on her heel and stormed out of the castle.

xxx

She showed up to the mission that night still mad.

Chuck was already in the van when she climbed in. His face lit up when he saw her, apparently interpreting her reappearance as tacit forgiveness for whatever it was he'd done to make her so angry. "Sarah! Hi! You're looking mighty lovely tonight, if I may say so. I've always thought you looked good in black. Blue, too. And red, you look really good in red. Amazing, even. But black, now, it's classic. And you manage to pull off this 'maybe I'm going to a club later, or maybe I'm going to burgle a highly guarded precious gem in the dead of night' thing going on that is really quite intriguing. How do you do that, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sarah ignored him and moved past him without a word. She sat down at the console and put on her headset without acknowledging Casey, who was in the seat next to her.

Chuck plopped himself down on her other side and made a valiant effort to stay silent for all of five seconds. "So where'd you go this afternoon?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Cause I was looking all over for you and you weren't at your apartment or at the castle. Are you still mad? You seem mad. Why are you mad? Cause everything was so great the other day, when we were playing 'Call of Duty,' remember? And you did that victory dance when you beat me? That was fun, wasn't it? And I don't really get why you got mad between now and then. If you'd just explain it to me-"

She pointedly turned up the volume on the control panel and didn't answer.

"Right," Chuck muttered. "We've got bad guys to catch, better focus." Beat. "But once we've gotten Jameson and his thugs locked in a cold, dark cell, maybe I could buy you dinner and you could tell me why—"

"Bartowski!" Casey barked. "Enough chitchat. First rule of being a spy is that you leave your personal life at the door when there's a mission going on. Now put on your headset and shut up."

"Okay," Chuck said meekly. He dutifully put on his headset and adjusted the volume. Allen was already in the restaurant, and was apparently nervous, because he ordered a stiff drink in a shaky voice, but Juarez hadn't arrived yet. Chuck cast a sidelong glance at Sarah. "Or I could buy you an ice cream? I know how much you love Cherry Garcia."

"Bartowski!" Casey hissed. "What part of shut up don't you understand?"

"Sorry, sorry," Chuck said, and turned back to the console, the picture of professionalism.

Juarez arrived. By the sound of his footsteps echoing into the mike, the man was huge. "Allen," he greeted in a thick Colombian accent. "Where is Jameson?"

Allen cleared his throat. "He, ah, had other business to attend to. He sends his sincerest regrets."

Juarez shifted and Chuck could imagine him regarding the other man contemptuously. "I can see why you might be one of his regrets, but you don't strike me as terribly sincere." He chuckled softly at his own joke, then his voice turned icy cold. "How do you think Jameson would react if I sent his apology back to him with his head chopped off? Do you think he would find that a sincere indication of my feelings on the matter?"

Allen swallowed audibly. "I-I'm sure he would never doubt your sincerity, sir, just as he's never given you cause to doubt his."

Juarez apparently wasn't in the mood for wordplay. "Where's the goddamned money?"

"Jameson is taking care of it right now, sir. He begs your patience in the matter."

"Jameson must be in a lot of trouble if he's willing to beg me for anything. Tell him he may have my patience for a price. The arms shipment he has set up for Algeria. I want it. All of it, in addition to the money owed to us, within two weeks. Or else Jameson will be offering his apologies in person… and I don't think he will like my method of forgiveness." They heard Juarez stand up. "We will contact you later this week with the location where Jameson is to have the shipment delivered."

Casey was on his feet and divesting himself of his headset before Allen had a chance to reply. "I'll take Juarez."

Sarah followed suit. "I'll follow Allen."

They turned to Chuck. "Chuck," they said simultaneously. "Stay in the van."

"Like I'd even _want_ to go anywhere else," he said in his best reassuring 'I'd better not piss off two people who could kill me with their bare hands' voice.

But before they could move past him, the back door of the van flew open, and Casey and Sarah froze. Chuck whipped around in his chair and saw the slightly dumbfounded member of the restaurant's kitchen staff who was staring at them. "You're not the shrimp delivery," the kitchen guy said astutely. Sarah thought he looked like a shorter, darker version of what you might expect to see if anyone was ever foolish enough to allow Jeff to work in a facility that involved food service.

Chuck moved faster than Sarah had ever seen him. He moved forward to block the guy's view of the surveillance equipment and jumped out of the van before the man could see anything else. "That's right, my good man," he said, clapping his good hand congenially on the other man's shoulder. "We are not the shrimp delivery. We are in fact, members of the health department."

The guy squinted at him. "You're health inspectors?"

"That's correct. Don't worry, we won't be troubling you very long. We just need to quickly check over a couple of things and then we will be on our merry way."

"Why are there three of you?" he asked suspiciously.

Chuck glanced at Sarah and Casey, who had followed him out of the van and slammed the door shut behind them. "My colleagues here are toxicologists. There's been a rumor that your restaurant has a very dangerous gas leak that could be affecting the kitchen area. I'll look at the interior, but they need to conduct some tests on the external ventilation system." He coughed delicately. "Don't worry, the gas has only been known to cause erectile dysfunction in a few male subjects in randomized clinical trials."

"No shit," the guy said, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, come on in then. Your friends can check out whatever they need to."

"The Los Angeles County Health Department appreciates your cooperation," Chuck said solemnly.

"Dude, how'd you hurt your arm?" the guy said, eyeing Chuck's sling.

"Funny story," Chuck said, steering the guy towards the back door of the restaurant. "Last restaurant we inspected, a crate of 1979 merlot fell on me. Needless to say, they did not meet current safety regulations and their license to do business was revoked."

He continued the story, leading the guy away and gesturing for Sarah and Casey to go around to the other side of the restaurant so they could follow the bad guys. He caught Sarah by the elbow as she passed and whispered in her ear, "Told you it's never a bad idea to have sizzling shrimp on hand when conducting surveillance."

She would not smile, she would not smile—oh, hell. She'd just have to content herself with not letting Chuck see it. "Be careful."

He shot her a patented Chuck grin. "Aren't I always?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and he hastily lost the smile. "I will be careful, I promise," he said in a low voice. "You be careful, too."

She nodded without voicing a reply, and moved away into the night.

When they got around to the other side of the restaurant, Casey got a bead on Juarez immediately and took off after him without a word, leaving her to look for Allen.

She scanned the parking lot, but didn't see any sign of him. Was it possible he'd already left? Surely they hadn't been talking to the kitchen guy that long. She hesitated, then went into the restaurant to stalk her prey.

He hadn't left yet. He was still sitting at the table, downing martinis at an alarming rate, hands shaking so badly he'd almost spilled the last two. Jesus, where had Jameson found this guy? And why the hell hadn't he gotten out of Dodge the minute Juarez left?

She froze. Jameson. He had to be waiting for Jameson. Which meant Jameson was here, or on his way here.

"Can I help you, miss?" the hostess asked, appearing at her shoulder.

Sarah pasted on her sweetest smile. "No thank you. I see my boyfriend over there; he's waiting for me."

She made a bee line towards Allen, and had sat down opposite him with a gun pointing at him under the table before he'd had a chance to look up from his latest martini glass. "Where's Jameson?" she demanded, eyes blazing.

He jumped about a mile when he looked up. "Oh, fuck."

"I don't have time for any shit, Allen. Where the hell is Jameson?"

His eyes slid away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She pinned him with a glare that could have drilled holes right into his skull. "Do you think, after what you did to my partner, that I would hesitate for one millisecond to blow your fucking brains out in the middle of this restaurant if you don't tell me what I want to know?"

He glanced around himself nervously. "We're in the middle of a crowded restaurant. You would ruin your cover."

"A few days ago, that might have mattered to me," Sarah said, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. It sounded dead and completely cold. Ruthless in a way she'd never imagined herself capable of being. "Then you shot my partner. Today, I wouldn't hesitate to destroy this entire restaurant and everyone in it to take your little operation down. Now, where the hell is Jameson?"

Allen swallowed, fear oozing from every pore of his body. "I-I don't know."

Sarah said nothing, but cocked the gun she held under the table.

"No, really!" he said, panicking. "I don't know! He's supposed to be here by now, I don't know what on earth could be holding him up—I mean, Juarez isn't exactly the kind of guy you want to fuck with, you know? You'd think he would have wanted to find out what he said right away."

Sarah paused. The little twit was right. It didn't make sense that Jameson would leave this guy alone for long after Juarez left. Especially not with access to a martini bar. Unless something was holding him up. Distracting him.

She froze. Chuck. Chuck was in the kitchen. And because Chuck had just about the worst luck of anyone she'd ever met, she'd be willing to bet Allen's pathetic life that he'd somehow stumbled across Jameson coming in the back way. She swore under her breath, and stood up.

Allen flinched, and she moved swiftly past him. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't hurt him. His relief was short-lived, however, when he realized she'd handcuffed him to his chair. He yanked on the chain hopelessly for a minute, then gave up and ordered another martini.

Sarah was long gone. She drew her gun and entered the kitchen, scanning the room for Chuck and Jameson. A few of the kitchen staff looked at her askance as she entered, but she was through the main kitchen before any of them could react with more than a raised eyebrow to the presence of an angry blonde with a gun in their midst.

She checked the supply room: nothing. She turned a corner and then she saw them in a hallway off the kitchen leading to the back entrance. They stood opposite each other, Chuck nearer to the main kitchen and to her, Jameson just inside the door that would have been Chuck's path to escape.

Chuck, as always, was talking faster than light moved on a sunny day. "Jameson!" he exclaimed. "What a coincidence, running into you here, of all places," he said with a nervous chuckle. "Though I guess even badass tough guys like yourself can't resist the most amazing Italian food west of Hollywood Boulevard. Have you had the manicotti here? Because I've heard it's to die for. Not literally, of course," he hastened to add, as Jameson pulled a gun on him. "But it's supposed to be pretty good." She could hear the familiar pitch of his voice rising as he tried to talk himself out of trouble.

Jameson listened impassively, his gun trained on Chuck. "Where's my fucking money?"

Chuck winced. "Ah, funny thing about that. See, the U.S. government seems to think that money belongs to them, and I can't say they're all that keen on sharing."

Jameson cocked his gun. "Do I need to shoot you again?"

Sarah's grip on her weapon tensed, but she was out of range, and Chuck was in the way. She had to get closer.

"I really wish you wouldn't," Chuck said earnestly. "Wasn't much of a picnic the first time around, you know."

"Where's the lovely Agent Walker this evening?" Jameson drawled. "If I'm going to shoot you it would really be better if I could do it in front of her. I would so enjoy seeing her reaction to me taking away something important to her."

"Well, you know I hate to ruin your fun and everything, but she's not here."

Jameson snorted. "You really expect me to believe that Sarah Walker, the deadliest agent in the CIA, left you, an analyst with his arm in a sling, in charge of a mission as big as this?"

"Yeah, that's the thing. The real mission, it's not here. I'm the decoy. Sarah was here, at the beginning, of course, before everything happened. Now she's gone."

Jameson's jaw tensed. "Where did she go?"

"After Juarez, of course."

"You're lying," he spat.

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Am I?"

Sarah eased forward, careful not to make a sound. There was a ton of junk back here- a broken dishwasher, ancient shelving, ere a ton of crates back here- useful for concealment, but damn irritating for getting a line of sight on someone she wanted to put a bullet through. Just a few more steps, and—

"Hey, Mr. Carmichael, you almost done back here?" The non-Jeff appeared from nowhere, just behind Chuck. His eyes caught the barrel of the gun and Jameson's grim expression, and his eyes widened in panic. "Whoa."

Sarah cursed inwardly and eased her finger off the trigger, pressing herself even more tightly against the wall. Fuck. Now the kitchen guy was blocking her shot.

"Just about finished up, Javier," Chuck said, eyes not leaving Jameson. "You'd better get back to the kitchen now."

"Who's the dude with the gun?" Javier asked curiously.

"Funny you should ask. He owns the restaurant where that crate fell on me. Turns out he's kind of pissed that I took his restaurant's license to do business away, so I guess he stalked me and found me here."

"Dude. Not cool," Javier commented.

"Yeah. He's harmless, though, I can take care of him. Don't worry about me. You should really go back to the kitchen now."

"I dunno man, he looks kind of whacked to me. That's always the most dangerous type, on TV. Unpredictable, you know?"

Jameson looked at Chuck. "Who the hell is he?"

"He works here. He's not part of this. Just let him go," Chuck said, his voice surprisingly calm now. Soothing, like he was trying to settle down a wounded bear.

Jameson grinned, a cruel grin. "Why, Carmichael, you seem to share dear Miss Walker's love of the little people. Can't bear to see innocents hurt, can you?" He aimed his gun at Javier. "How about you tell me where my money is, and I don't shoot your new friend here?"

Javier started, apparently realizing for the first time that his life was actually in danger. " _So_ not cool."

Chuck quickly stepped sideways, effectively blocking Javier from the sight of the gun. Great. Now the kitchen guy and Chuck were between her and a bullet between Jameson's eyes. "Hey, no need to get upset, Jameson. He didn't lose you your money, I did. Why don't we go outside and discuss this and we'll figure out how to get your money back."

"Tell me where it is _now._ "

"Come on, Jameson, what the hell do you think I can do for you standing in the back of some random restaurant?" Chuck said, sounding impatient. "I'm the tech guy—I can get you your money, but I need a computer. And a secure wireless connection. And the account number where you want the money to go to. So unless you have your Swiss bank account number memorized, and a new netbook has been released in the shape of that Sig Sauer you have in your hand, I suggest we skip Italian tonight and order some take out," Chuck said firmly, squaring his shoulders and planting himself even more firmly in front of Javier.

Jameson kept the gun trained on Chuck for an interminable moment, clearly torn between wanting to kill the man had stolen everything from him and the desperate hope that Chuck could save his ass from Juarez and his goons.

Finally, he lowered the gun. "All right. You can ride in the trunk again."

"Great, it will be like old times," Chuck said, sounding incredibly relieved. "Guess you didn't end up upgrading for that DVD player, huh?"

"Let's go. Your friend will come with us. I do not expect you will find him as entertaining a companion in the trunk as Miss Walker."

"She's a tough act to follow," Chuck agreed, turning to reassure Javier and freezing for a split second as he saw Sarah sliding forward, her face a silent mask of death. She held a finger to her lips for one instant and she saw Chuck's shoulders slump with relief. "Come on, Javier, it's time to go—" and he tackled Javier with everything he had, slamming the both of them to the ground and clearing Sarah's line of sight at last.

Sometimes, she really loved Chuck.

Jameson didn't have time to react. "What the f-?" he started, and then the bullet hit him, and he fell.


	8. Chapter 8

"You," Chuck declared as the van bumped over a pothole peeling out of the lot, "are so AWESOME! Jameson never knew what hit him!"

They were on the way back to the castle. Sarah was driving, and she gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, but didn't say anything.

"Seriously, you hit him right between the eyes! Like, dead center! It was Robin Hood splitting his first arrow with the second arrow- that level of badass. And can I just say, your timing was impeccable? Because I had no IDEA what I was going to do when he started waving that gun around, and I must say, as much as I love the guy, I was really not looking forward to being stuck in that trunk with Javier. Hope he's ok. He hit the ground pretty hard. Pretty sure he bought the story about you being a cop sent to protect me from deranged restaurateurs, though, so hopefully he won't be too traumatized."

Sarah was shaking. It had been so long since she'd experienced the sensation that it took her a moment to recognize the feeling. "Chuck," she tried to interrupt him.

"Wait til Casey hears you took out the baddie without him! He's going to be jealous. He acts so tough, but I can tell it secretly galls him when you can take care of things without him."

"Chuck, what the hell were you thinking?" Sarah demanded when she could finally get a word in.

"I couldn't really tell you, to be honest, everything was a bit of a blur." He glanced over at her. "Now I'm thinking you look kinda mad at me… but will ultimately forgive me because you can't resist my boyish charm?" This last delivered in a doubtful tone with a sheepish smile.

Sarah ignored him. "How could you volunteer to trade yourself in for some complete stranger? Don't you have any survival instincts at all? Don't you have any idea how valuable you are?" She swallowed. "And you just volunteer to go with the man who _shot_ you to God knows where because of some guy who works in the kitchen?!"

Chuck slumped in his seat, looking dejected. "Right. The Intersect. You're angry about me putting the Intersect at risk."

Sarah was so mad at him she didn't bother to correct him. This was becoming a trend. Have near emotional break down, conceal from Chuck at all costs. Usually by yelling at Chuck. "Chuck, you need to figure out your priorities. You have to remember that there is a bigger picture here."

"Look, I'm sorry, Sarah, but I couldn't just let the guy get killed just because he happened to be there! You think he could be, what, sacrificed for the good of the Intersect?"

"I'm just saying you need to keep things in perspective and think before you act!"

Chuck shook his head. "How many innocent lives is the Intersect worth, Sarah? One? Two? A hundred? If we're willing to sacrifice one innocent life to protect the Intersect, how long before we start justifying dozens of lives in the name of keeping the Intersect viable? The minute we start doing that, Sarah, I'm out of this for good. That's not what I signed up for. Because last I heard, the Intersect exists to protect innocent lives, not the other way around. That's kinda the whole point."

A thousand. A thousand and one. All the thousands in all the cities in all the world. That's how many lives the man who held the Intersect was worth to her. That's what scared her, especially because Chuck was right. She was silent for a long moment. "How's your shoulder?" she asked finally.

Chuck shifted uncomfortably. "What? Oh—it's all right," he said.

Liar. It had to be killing him. She snuck a glance at him before returning her eyes to the road. "You know, for someone who keeps claiming not to be a hero, you do a pretty lousy job of acting the part."

"Me? No, no, I'm just the tech guy, remember? I leave the heroics to the hot super agent blondes in my life."

"Chuck, you risked your life to protect a stranger and you tackled him with a broken collar bone to get him out of the line of fire. I hate to break it to you, but that's pretty classic heroism right there."

"Well, when you put it like that… I guess we were both heroes tonight, huh? Beckman's probably going to want to throw us a party when we get back and tell her what happened."

Sarah shook her head, but didn't say anything. She knew exactly what Beckman was going to say, and she wasn't going to be popping any champagne corks for them.

+++

Chuck stared at the screen, dumbfounded, as he listened to Beckman rail into Sarah about ruining the mission. Sarah bore it stoically, shoulders upright and face impassive, but Chuck wasn't having any of it.

"Are you serious?" he exploded. "How can you be mad at her? She saved my life and made sure Jameson can't hurt anyone ever again! How can you possibly see that as a bad thing?"

Beckman didn't bother concealing the impatience in her voice. "Because the minute we learned Juarez was involved it was obvious that Jameson was only a small piece of the operation, and killing him removed our only chance of drawing Juarez out into the open."

"He was going to shoot me! As in, kill me dead! You're the one who's always telling her that protecting the Intersect is the top priority. Now you're turning around and saying protecting the Intersect isn't enough, she's supposed to anticipate the bad guys' every move at the same time just in case they turn out to be a crucial part of a larger conspiracy that no one told us about before hand? Of all the hypocritical—"

Casey kicked him surreptitiously before he could do something worthy of being court-martialed and Chuck bit off a cry of pain, hopping on one foot and clutching his shin with a grimace. He glared at Casey, who, as usual, ignored him.

"General, what's our next move?" Casey asked.

"You have the suspect, Allen, in custody?" the general queried.

"Yes, ma'am. Agent Walker subdued him and I brought him back to the castle. He's in a holding cell now."

Chuck, having recovered from the kick to the shin, started up again. "What I want to know is, why aren't you mad at Casey for losing Juarez? Or at me for not staying in the car? Because this is starting to seem like a double standard, General. By my count, Sarah neutralized not one, but two of the bad guys, while I jeopardized the mission by letting Jameson get the drop on me and Casey lost the apparently 'more important' bad guy known as Juarez." This last with air quotes. "Sarah has done more for this mission than any of us, and you're reading her the riot act! You, General Beckman, are sexist, that's what you are."

"Chuck," Sarah said in a tight voice. " _Shut up_."

"Agent Casey followed Juarez to an apartment on the outskirts of town, at which point Juarez realized he was being followed and started shooting at Agent Casey's car. Casey was forced to abandon the mark for the time being to avoid being killed, but we have enough information now to be reasonably certain that Juarez' crew is staying in an apartment near the docks. Thanks to his intel, we now have agents canvassing the area, and are confident they will be able to identify his residence. Regarding you getting out of the car, my understanding is that you acted in the best interest of protecting the cover, and prevented Agents Walker and Casey from being exposed. As for Agent Walker…" she paused. "Perhaps I was overly harsh. Capturing Allen will provide us with some key information, and protecting the Intersect _is_ the highest priority, so I suppose under the circumstances the loss of Jameson as a source of intel was justified."

Chuck looked slightly mollified, but apparently wasn't quite done wreaking havoc on Sarah's professional image. He raised his eyebrows at the big screen in front of them. "Aren't you going to tell Sarah you're sorry, General Beckman?"

Beckman narrowed her eyes. "Don't push it, Chuck." And she clicked off.

Sarah punched Chuck on his good arm. "Thanks a lot, Chuck. Next time, mind your own damn business and keep quiet."

He winced, and rubbed his arm. "Well, excuse me for not wanting you to be treated unfairly. Guess that just makes me a prize idiot."

"Can't you see it undermines my professionalism if you rush to my defense like some knight in shining armor in a situation like that?" Sarah demanded.

Chuck looked like he couldn't decide which part he was more confused about: the undermining the professionalism thing or Sarah's characterization of him as a knight in shining armor.

"Give it a rest, Walker," Casey said impatiently. "Bartowski's right. Beckman was out of line. Shooting Jameson was your only option- you had no choice. And maybe if you didn't act like a damsel in distress and stood up for yourself, Bartowski wouldn't have to be your knight in shining armor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go interrogate Allen about his meeting with Juarez. And for the love of God, sort out whatever the hell is going on between you two before I am forced to kill myself, because I will shoot myself before I start giving out dating advice."

"That Casey, such a romantic," Chuck said dryly as Casey left.

Sarah said nothing. An awkward silence fell over the room, Chuck watching Sarah out of the corner of his eye while trying not to let her see him do so, and Sarah studiously avoiding looking at Chuck and trying to not to feel his eyes on her.

The hell with this. "I'm going home," Sarah announced.

Chuck's eyes widened. "What? You're not going to help Casey with the interrogation?"

"Casey doesn't need my help," she said shortly.

"But you always get better results than Casey. Five minutes of that whole, 'I'm such a tough, sexy secret agent no man could possibly keep any secrets from me' strategy on Allen and he'll spill everything he knows." Chuck somehow managed to sound both resentful and admiring of this at the same time. He was really the only man she knew who could do that.

She turned on him. "Is that really what you think of me Chuck?"

He blinked. "What? Think what of you?"

"You really think I just bat my eyes and state secrets fall from the lips of terrorists?" she said angrily.

"I-no, of course not," Chuck stammered.

"Who's sexist now, Chuck?"

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. His eyes flashed and he stepped towards her. "You're kidding me, right, Sarah? How can you say that to me? You know me, I'm not like that. How could a geek like me have a sister like mine and a- and know someone like you, who could chop me into little toothpick size pieces without breaking a sweat, and think that women are anything less than amazing? I know what you do every day, Sarah Walker, and don't think I don't know what it costs you. But you use the fact that you're a beautiful woman to your advantage in certain situations, don't pretend that you don't."

"You think I like doing that, Chuck?" she burst out. "You think I like dressing up for men I don't care about and pretending to enjoy the way they look at me all in the name of national security?"

"Of course I don't," he said, sounding exasperated. "You're just doing your job, and when lives are on the line you use every tool that is available to you, I get that. And you know I understand that." He shook his head. "Why are we even fighting about this?"

She wanted to scream. Men! "I'm leaving." And she left Chuck in the castle, staring after her in utter bewilderment.

Three hours later, Sarah tossed and turned in her bed for about the hundredth time since she'd gotten home. What was the matter with her? She'd lost her temper with Chuck, again, for no good reason. Deliberately picked a fight with him over absolutely nothing. She, Sarah Walker, had lost control of herself.

That seemed to be happening a lot, lately. She was supposed to be this big bad spy, and recently she'd been acting like a spoiled, emotionally disturbed… girl. To her horror, she found herself furiously blinking back tears to keep them from spilling onto her pillow. She was Sarah Walker, dammit. She didn't make mistakes. Didn't let anything—or anyone—cloud her judgment. And she didn't cry.

This was all Chuck's fault. She'd never felt like this before she'd met him. A bitter laugh escaped her. She'd cried three times in the past fifteen years, and all of them had had to do with Chuck. Bastard. Running around, playing at being a real spy, when he could get hurt or killed or worse. What was she supposed to do if that happened, huh? Go back to being a cold-blooded killer with no real link to humanity as if he'd never existed? Never smiled at her, never protected her from creepy interactions with Jeff and Lester, never explained a science fiction movie in entirely too much detail to her with his eyes alight and his hand on hers? Never kissed her in a way that made her feel more alive than she had any hope of being without him?

Chuck was definitely the problem. He'd go and say something sweet which would completely undo her, and then he'd turn around and break up with her. Oh, sure, he'd say it was a cover break up, to go along with their cover relationship, but the break ups—those felt as real to her as any other moment she shared with Chuck. Of course, he didn't know that, but still. She punched her pillow viciously. What she wanted to know was, if she was so great, why was he always breaking up with her for some random brunette. Okay, Jill wasn't random, he'd been in love with the woman for five years—

Maybe thinking about Jill wasn't a good idea.

The truth was, Casey was right. Training Chuck was the next logical step. He'd proven himself, and now he should be taught to protect himself to keep him from getting into more trouble— _like getting himself shot_ —and to further the capacity of the mission. Sarah gritted her teeth. The mission. She couldn't decide who was right about whether she ought to have shot Jameson, Chuck or Beckman, but in reality, the point was moot. It didn't matter who was right, because the whole problem was that she hadn't been weighing protecting the asset against the potential of gathering intel on Juarez. She'd seen Jameson, and nothing had mattered to her except that the man who shot Chuck was before her, and she needed to make sure he never hurt him again.

She needed to get a grip. If she could just get a good night's sleep, maybe she'd be able to stop acting like a crazy person and focus on what was important. She turned onto her stomach and closed her eyes.

There was a pounding at her door. Of course.

She ignored it.

"Sarah! It's me."

Obviously.

"Sarah, let me in!"

She flipped over on her back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if she didn't answer, he would give up and go away.

"Sarah, I'm not above making a scene in the hallway if you don't let me in."

She sighed and got up to cross to the doorway, but she didn't open the door. "What do you want, Chuck?"

"I think we should talk."

She paused. "I don't feel like talking right now."

"Sarah, please? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about whatever I did to make you so mad at me. Just please talk to me, I can't handle it when you're angry at me, I can't think about anything else. I'm sorry I don't understand what I did, but if you could just explain it to me I promise I won't do it again."

Silence.

"Sarah? Are you there? I really am sorry. I'm sorry I talked back to Beckman, it wasn't my place." She could hear him breathing on the other side of the door, and felt the thud of his head as he let his forehead fall against it as he continued rambling. "I'm sorry I called you beautiful, okay? You're… not. In fact, you're horribly ugly, every time I see you I wonder if you were born deformed or if perhaps you were in some kind of disfiguring accident as a child. Just please let me in, so I can see your hideous visage and explain…"

Sarah sighed. "Chuck, I'm tired. It's late."

"I know, but I won't be able to sleep if you're upset with me," Chuck said forlornly.

That made two of them. "Chuck… go home."

She heard him sigh. "At least let me tell you about the mission."

"The mission?" she repeated.

"Yeah, I had an idea about how to take down Juarez," he said. "I stayed with Casey for the interrogation and I worked out a way for us to figure out where the dropoff will be happening. I would have come over sooner, but Casey and I had to go over the details."

She yanked open the door and pulled him inside, closing the door quickly behind him. She faced him with her hands on her hips. "What the hell do you mean, you came up with a plan to take down Juarez?"

"Oh, sure, I come over here groveling, and all you care about is the mission," Chuck grumbled.

"It's my job," she said stiffly.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "You can't take ten minutes to talk about something that affects you personally, but another mission crops up suddenly and you're free as a bird? Jesus, Sarah, don't you get tired of being so damn noble all the time?"

She snorted. "You're one to talk."

He stared at her. "I think you're a little confused. I'm the one who runs around getting into trouble and hiding from the bad guys while you risk life and limb to protect me and every citizen of this country, remember?"

"You're the one who has no instinct for self-preservation, but keeps saving everyone through quick wits and sheer passion," Sarah retorted.

Chuck shook his head. "See, the words you're saying sound like a good thing, yet the way you say them makes me think you're pissed as hell."

She ignored him. "Tell me about the mission."

He sighed. "It's pretty simple, really. We've got Allen now, and Casey figures we can get him to play along with us to manipulate Juarez in exchange for protection from the rest of the Colombians. We've got Jameson's phone now, and we think Juarez will call tomorrow or the day after that to arrange a rendez-vous. If we can suss out Juarez and capture him and a few of his nearest and dearest henchmen, we could be well on our way to shutting down a major international drug and arms operation."

Sarah shook her head. "Juarez'll be spooked if we pick up that call. He'd only agree to meet with Jameson himself."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Chuck cleared his throat. "I'm going to impersonate Jameson. Take Allen with me to the meeting spot so Juarez won't suspect. Then you and Casey will come in with the cavalry."

Sarah couldn't believe her ears. " _You_ are going to impersonate Jameson?"

Chuck lifted his chin. "Yes."

"Like hell you are."

"Beckman already signed off on it."

"You talked to Beckman without informing me?"

"I tried to inform you. You didn't pick up your cell phone. Fifteen times in a row." Chuck said, annoyed. "And you know what Sarah? I'm getting pretty sick of you yelling at me for no good reason, and then refusing to talk to me! What the hell did I do that was so wrong? Because you lose the right to yell at me if you won't explain what it is that I'm doing that's been making you so mad."

"You almost died!" Sarah burst out. "You keep putting yourself in danger, Chuck, and you don't let me protect you, and you got _shot_. You could have been killed. And now you want to be a real agent, and you want me to just say, sure, okay, I'm fine with you being put into more danger than you already are every day, when it's all I can do to make sure you don't die just from acting as an asset?"

"But the whole point of me becoming an agent is that it's not all on you and Casey anymore to protect me!" Chuck protested. "I would be protecting myself—I would be getting _more_ protection, in the form of me."

"You shouldn't have to do that!" Sarah said, frustrated.

"I _want_ to, Sarah. No one is putting a gun to my head. I want to be a real agent."

"But why, Chuck? You're such a great guy—why do you want to become someone dark, disconnected from the rest of the people in the world, with no real friends or loved ones?"

"Who says I can't have friends or loved ones anymore just because I become a spy?" Chuck said, raising his eyebrows.

"Because that's the way it is, Chuck. I know this life. You do things—horrible things—and your life is in danger every day. And anyone you love is a liability," she said, on the verge of tears once again. Four times in fifteen years. Damn Chuck. Maybe it only counted once if it happened on the same day, for the same reason.

Chuck was silent for a long time. "Sarah, I appreciate that you want me to stay safe. But I don't want to hide behind you the rest of my life. I can't be the kind of man I want to be unless I protect you just as much as you protect me. I want us to be partners. True partners. Where we both know the risks, and we have each other's backs, all the time. Where we are true equals, in every sense of the word. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She understood. She didn't like it, but she understood. "So there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

He hesitated. "No. I'm sorry, Sarah, but no."

She turned away and ducked her head.

"Sarah?"

She sniffed, but didn't turn around. "Fine."

"Aw, come on, Sarah, can't we talk about this? I mean, what this means for, you know, us?"

She cast about for something to say that would allow them not to pursue this line of conversation. "Shouldn't you be getting back to Jill?" she asked abruptly.

"Jill?" he repeated blankly, as though he had never heard of the girl.

"Yes," Sarah said tersely. "Jill. You know, your _real_ girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "What does Jill have to do with this?"

"Nothing. Except that you shouldn't be over here in the middle of the night when you have a real girlfriend who would probably appreciate your presence more."

"Sarah," Chuck said slowly. "Jill and I broke up."

She spun around to face him. "What?"

"I thought you knew," he said.

"When?" she demanded.

He looked away. "That night, when you were at my place after the shooting, when Jill came over to see me."

"What happened?"

"I ended it."

"You—why?" she said, a little desperately.

Chuck shrugged uncomfortably. "Me and Jill… we're not the same people we were. As long as I spent pining for her, in the end, my feelings aren't the same anymore. And it wasn't fair to her to keep trying to make it work when my heart was… somewhere else."

Sarah stared at him. "I see."

He stepped towards her. "You really didn't know?"

She shook her head. "Casey's been covering most of the surveillance lately."

"He has?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to be the one—" she stopped. "I didn't want to be the one who invaded your privacy. Casey, he got that. He knew I was uncomfortable and he offered to take on more of the surveillance work."

"But he didn't have a problem with my privacy being invaded, generally," Chuck said wryly.

"It's not like that, Chuck. Neither of us like doing it. It's for your protection, that's all."

Chuck sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know."

She was quiet for a moment. "Look, Chuck, I'm sorry. I've been upset, and I've been taking it out on you, and that's not fair to you. I'm just not used to caring so much about the person I'm protecting, and I'm having trouble keeping things in perspective. That isn't usually a problem for me. I'm used to being in control, all the time."

Chuck snorted. "Yeah, I hadn't noticed."

She hit him on the arm. "Watch it."

He rubbed his arm, but couldn't help smiling. "Hey, that's valuable CIA property there."

"What is this, some kind of 'you break it, you bought it,' kind of deal?" she snorted.

"Depends on the buyer," he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him, and he grinned wider. "So, we're all right?"

She considered this. She still wasn't crazy about the idea of Chuck training to be a field agent, but it looked like she didn't have much choice in the matter, so she might as well do everything she could to train him properly herself. As for impersonating Jameson… she really hated that idea, but Chuck seemed determined, and if Beckman and Casey thought it was a good plan, it couldn't be too dangerous for the asset. Maybe… maybe it could be a good thing, Chuck changing his status in the field. And Chuck had broken up with Jill days ago. She smiled. "Yeah, we're all right."

"Great." Chuck opened his arms (one arm slightly lower than the other due to his injured collarbone) and looked at her expectantly.

She regarded him curiously, standing with his arms spread wide in the middle of her room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm opening my arms for a make up hug," he explained, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world.

She raised her eyebrows. "A make up hug?"

"Yeah. We had an argument, and then we made up. But for true closure, we need a make up hug. It's something friends do."

"Really," she said skeptically. "You and Morgan do this after you have a fight?"

"Are you kidding? You can barely tear the hairy little man off me after we've had a disagreement."

She paused. "You know, I have no trouble imagining that whatsoever."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards him. She stepped into his embrace awkwardly, letting him encircle her with his arms, and wrapped her own arms around him in turn. Tentatively, she leaned her head against his chest. "This doesn't hurt your shoulder?" she said hesitantly.

"Nah," Chuck said, guiding her head to his good shoulder. She was ninety-seven percent sure he was lying, but if he wasn't going to complain, she certainly wasn't.

She buried her nose in his shirt, inhaling the scent of him through the warm cotton, and then exhaled slowly, relaxing into his embrace. Their bodies were flush against each other. The act of breathing out somehow brought them closer, and this was the best hug she'd ever had in her life.

She pressed her cheek into his shirt and listened to his heartbeat, letting herself be reassured by the rhythmic thump against his ribcage. He was alive. He was here. He was here with her and she could hear and feel the beautiful sound of his good, strong heart beating. And she suddenly felt calmer than she had in days, weeks, just because of this.

Chuck's good hand hesitantly rose to touch her hair, and she sighed in response. Emboldened by her sigh, he stroked her hair gently, sliding his fingers through the golden strands tenderly, reverently.

"Do you do that with Morgan, too?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Nah. Usually Morgan is the one stroking _my_ hair."

She laughed into his shirt and felt him smile; she knew the exact look of happiness and pride in his eyes that he was able to elicit an honest to goodness chuckle from Sarah Walker, and it warmed her heart. She lifted her head up to look in his eyes and was not disappointed. She smiled at him and he grinned wider, looking down at her.

"Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Want to play 'Call of Duty' with me?"

"You _bought_ it?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"And the game system to play it on?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Sarah, are you now addicted to 'Call of Duty?'"

"Of course not," she scoffed.

He grinned. "You so are! You've got a little bit of geek in you, trying to break free through that tough, beautiful spy cage you've got it imprisoned in. You, Sarah Walker… are a nerd."

"Shut up and play," she said, tossing him the control.

"Sarah, I'm not a hundred percent sure of this, because it would probably take a poll and some complex statistical analysis to determine this for certain… but I'm pretty sure you're the coolest girl in the world."

xxx

In the middle of their third game, she kissed him. Chuck died in a fiery explosion, taking out three of his own men at the same time, but he didn't seem to care. He looked at her, wide-eyed. "What was that?"

She lowered her eyes and whispered, barely audible. "I want it, too."

Chuck, who was looking a bit dazed, blinked and said, his voice a shade higher than normal, "Ah—want what?"

"I want us to be partners for real." It scared the hell out of her, but if it worked…it could be pretty great.

"Oh," Chuck said, valiantly hiding his disappointment and confusion. Which was just silly, because after all this, how could he not understand?

To clarify, she tucked her head into the side of his neck and pressed a kiss there. "And…I want this to be real, too."

He inhaled sharply and went very still. "You—you do?"

She found his mouth again. "I want _us_ to be real."

The controller fell to the floor. "I think I can get behind that idea," Chuck said, and reached for her.


End file.
